14 Smashed Through the Heart
by PeechTao
Summary: Final Chapter! Tragedy strikes Stark Tower when a woman Bruce has come to love is found to be secretly drugging him. An agent of the unknown "Blackstone" project hiding within SHIELD, what is her mission? And to what length does Clint go to stop her? Full of love and subterfuge. Spies and the grim results of a Stark Tower invasion initiated by none other than Grant Ward himself.
1. Prologue

a/n: Introducing the latest!

Here is the timeline previous to this storyline: Might be best just to read Bagel Thursday as this is the loose sequel to that. But if not, what you have missed out on is: Clint is 80% deaf, the team lives in Stark Tower, right after he became deaf during a mission in Egypt he was sent out on a mission in Baltimore where he was introduced to a female agent. That agent was taken and nearly assaulted by the target before she killed him. Clint is now learning to life his life being deaf while Banner and Stark work to update his hearing aids. I'm sure that's not all the information you may need, but its a start!

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Prologue

"Come on, it's just two steps. You're inside, then you're outside. You spent, how long, just in the middle of nowhere with zero incidents; why is this still a problem?" Tony was saying.

"Yeah, it's just New York. Every time I come here it's just rough. I always break something. It doesn't matter what; it could be a bright shiny day and a rickshaw could jump a curb and, BAM!, I'm losing my shirt." Banner replied.

"I highly doubt a rickshaw will suddenly be transported outside the front door just to hit you. You are very good at controlling that and, frankly, I think you need to explore this half of yourself."

"Half nothing. It's either all of me as Bruce Banner, or all of me in a big old green monster thing. I broke New York more times than I can count. I'm not sure I have many fans out there."

"Watch any television or shop in the kid's section of a Macy's catalogue and it'll tell you different." Tony turned over to Clint and Steve with his hand gesturing to them. "Right? You try and tell him that the world will not suddenly fall apart the minute he steps outside."

Clint was quick to take the offering. "Actually, statistics show that 80% of all accidents occur in the home."

Tony shrugged as if his point had been made entirely valid.

The still unsure Bruce remained hovering back and forth in front of the rotating door.

It was another morning at Stark Industries and, like all other mornings, a familiar scene was repeating itself in front of the turn style doors of the office building. Bruce Banner, scientist and part time Hulk, was refusing to take even so much as a single step into the New York streets. Tony Stark, eager to broaden his friend's horizons, was cajoling, bribing, shoving, and reasoning his friend into submission. For months, all of the convincing in the world got them nowhere. Bruce was not leaving. Tony was giving in and back to work they went.

Steve shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't quite sure what he could add in this situation. "Bruce, you'd been good for so long out on your own in way more populated places than this, from what I've heard. You should just go get a coffee or something if you want."

Bruce was more fidgety than Steve had ever seen him. Th first time they met they were in the midst of a war room situation and the last real conversation they'd had was over a few rolls of shwarma after said war. Since then tête-à-têtes were limited.

The doctor was nodding at their comments. He seemed to understand it, taking it in with the same breath that gave him a sturdy set jaw. He turned on his heels and headed for the turn style door. The receptionists at the counter half stood from their seats. Happy, by security, even leaned over the desk. Bruce paused for a moment by the door.

Then he stepped in. Around he spun and out he came . . . back inside the Stark Tower.

Clint threw up his arms. "Crap! Bruce, that was so close! You were right there!"

Bruce scampered inside as if all of New York was on his heels. "I did it. It counts. I went."

"It does not count." Tony said. "And Mr. Arrowhead over there is not helping. Here, I'll walk out with you, will that help?"

Bruce nodded against his chest, his hands clenching and unclenching each other. Tony and he entered the door and turned around in a few circles. Bruce was on the outside and now that Stark was in the door with him, he was refusing to get out at all.

Clint chuckled as he watched the antics. "Every morning," he reminded Steve. "there's an office pool going on with the receptionists to find how long it takes to get him out. Have you paid in yet?"

"Yeah, I lost ten bucks on guessing last Tuesday." Steve said, folding his arms. "How long is this going to go on for? I mean, it's not like he has never in his life been in a major city before. The guy hid out in Canada and hiked his way pretty much to the Arctic Circle."

"And then crossed a few oceans on top of it. You aren't telling me something I don't know and he doesn't know. Y'know what I think?"

Steve raised an eyebrow.

"He's just doing it to pester Tony. Tony's not happy unless he can fix something. If he thinks Bruce is agoraphobic, maybe it'll keep him from trying to hitch Bruce with one of the secretaries. Kind of like how Nat keeps trying to set you up."

Steve chuckled. "You knew about that?"

"Spy, remember?"

They watched the two spin and spin around the turn style door. Tony shoved Bruce out the door inside of the Tower. After another lengthy pep talk, they reentered the revolving door with Tony on the outside this time.

They both got out together.

Bruce tried jumping back into the building door, but Tony fought him on the sidewalk over it. Bruce backed off, lifting his arms in surrender and even walked a few paces away. When Tony let his guard down, Bruce rushed the door again. They laughed and grappled like a pair of children.

Steve nodded understandingly. "All right, I'll buy it. Agoraphobic."

Clint shrugged as he headed back into the main lobby and scrambled up one of the columns to the almost imperceptible ledge poking out from the corner. It had become his unofficial guard post over the security desk. In some ways he was like a perfect gargoyle up there all by himself.

"Oh, here's something then! Run Tony!" Clint exclaimed.

All attention was drawn to the warring couple outside. Tony slid into the entry and wedged his body in the door preventing Bruce from getting inside. But, true to Stark form, one single revolving door was not enough for the lower Tower. Once Bruce realized he couldn't enter one way, he went running for the next. Tony shot out of his own door yelling at Happy.

"Lock it! Lock it!"

Happy locked the front doors.

Bruce pushed with all his might. He raced to the other side and pushed against those doors as well. He was trapped on the outside with no way to get in...that is, unless he became green and built a new entry for himself.

Tony stood across from him waving. "Bruce, this is for your own good. Go out and just get some fresh air."

The look on Bruce's face was enough to garner sympathy from a crying clown. "Is this really such a good idea?" Steve asked.

"He's fine!" Tony replied. "Fresh air would do him good."

"But shouldn't he be avoiding, well, stress? Isn't this pretty stressful?"

Stark turned away from Bruce's fists pounding on the glass and his pleading puppy-eyes begging to be let back in. The entire scene was made even worse when the rain JARVIS promised that morning decided to descend from the heavens.

"No sympathy." Tony replied. "We leave him to his sorrows. We must be gentle but firm with them at this age and if that doesn't work, smack them across the head with a newspaper. And frankly, Bruce has survived on his own all over the world in some of the crappiest locations on the planet! I don't see why New York will be a problem." He continued walking past Steve to the upper elevators. On his way past the security post, he called up to Clint.

"You going to hang up there all day?"

"Entertaining so far." Clint replied.

"Well keep one of those eyes on Rocket's-Red-Glare. Don't let him play with my stuff."

Clint chuckled, offering a salute. "Will do, boss."

"And don't let Bruce in! Cat's gotta get loose and roam a little."

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So that's the intro! stick around for chapter 1 and tell me what you think:)


	2. Chapter 1

a/n: Here is chapter 1!

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Chapter 1

Clint wound his hand in a circle at the wrist. Steve was meant to take it as a signal to keep talking but, frankly, he'd begun to run out of things to say. He wasn't sure how long it was supposed to take for Clint to get the clean room's door unscrewed, but it was much too long for Steve's liking. When Stark decided to have a fit of PTSD, the general consensus was to call Bruce or Pepper. Having neither available for once was an oddity in itself.

"Tony, how you doing in there? Can you still hear me? Can you say something or move your head for me?"

Tony did neither. He was frozen, relatively speaking. He sat on the edge of his desk in the separate portion of the lab meant for a dust free environment. He had a clean suit on with the hood pulled down, breathing a mile a minute. His face was the same color as his clean suit and he was shaking everywhere.

"Almost got it." Clint whispered, edging another wire into the lock on the door. "Got to admit something, this one's a first. Haven't had an incident in...what? Four days? Figured we were over the worst of it. Guess little relapses are expected."

"Yeah, well, he needs Bruce as much as Bruce needs him. Get that door open." Steve told him

"Bingo." Clint said. The door seal popped. An alarm went off over head as the contamination bell rang. "Shut that down! Red button!" Clint yelled to Steve. He squeezed through the barely open door and stopped in front of Stark. He slowly put his hands on Tony's shoulders. Steve hit the button and the wailing stopped. He hurried back to help Clint but the archer held a hand out to stop him. Steve remained within reach if needed but outside of Stark's view.

"Tony?" Clint whispered quietly. His hands moved from his shoulders to the side of Tony's face. "Listen to my voice. I need you to come back from that little dark room I know you're hiding in right now and get back here. I may have just ruined all of your computer chips. I'm sorry about that. You can kill me over it later if you want, but right now I really would like for you to try and be present. Can you do that?"

Tony shook a little less. The distant black look in his eyes began to dissipate as he came around. Clint was right to think Steve had some experience with this sort of reaction. He'd seen it with guys who'd gone up too much on missions. Buddies of his who'd seen too many men dragged out of foxholes on their bellies with nothing left beyond that. After Bucky died, even Steve was so distraught it took a lot of time and a lot of missions to pull himself out of it. Suddenly, he felt a little guilty over the things he'd said to Stark before the attack. He said Stark didn't have what it took. He wasn't made of the stuff that let a man lay down on a land mine to save everyone he cared about. Seeing Tony not only ride that rocket through the portal but almost die in the process shook Steve. Seeing this? It hurt him deeply.

"Tony?" Clint continued to coax. Watching him work was almost masterful in some ways. "Look, I know she's not here and I would get her if I could. If you can get moving a bit I'm going to bring you into the lab. JARVIS is going to get the suit on you. You can relax a bit in there. I'll leave you alone."

"No."

Steve looked at Clint, surprised to hear Tony talk.

"No?" Clint asked.

Tony moved his head a little. He blinked his eyes, the blackness fading out of them. He was looking at the computer chips laid out in their neat rows on the table.

"I got them dusty." Clint said. "I told you to get mad at me later about that."

"No. I—No." Tony pushed up to his feet. His legs were weak under him. Clint grabbed his arm and nodded for Steve to grab his other one. Steve reacted immediately and took the brunt of Tony's weight.

"No! No! No! I can't replace that!" Tony struck out with a leg and hit the base of the table. The computer chips went flying. Clint grabbed the base of the table before it went completely over. He dropped it back on its legs and grabbed Tony again before he could do more damage. With Steve's help they dragged the tirading Iron Man into the main room again.

"Take it easy, Tony." Clint said. He was so patient; Steve couldn't understand how he did it. "Easy! Just stand here. I'm going to let go of you, now. Steve too. Ready? Ok, we've let go. Stop trying to destroy stuff, Tony, or else I'm going to have Steve grab you again. Relax. Take a breath. Take a deeper breath."

Clint knelt on his toes beside the work bench and stared up into Tony's face. The exercise of fighting them had brought color back into his cheeks. He was tired from his body seizing up. Steve stayed off to the side where Clint indicated he should.

"Tony? Are you listening? I have something important to tell you."

Tony glared down at Clint.

"You have probably the biggest piece of snot hanging out of your nose I've ever seen."

Tony snorted.

"Oh—Oh my God, it's worse. Look at that hair! You've got to get Pepper to weed whack that or something. Jeez, you go on TV like that? It's like the creature from the black lagoon waving out of there. Don't laugh, you're making it move. I feel like it's going to eat my face or something. Cap, hand me those paper towels behind you. I got to take care of this before it shoots across the room or something."

Tony leaned his elbows on the counter top with his head in his hands. There was no mistaking the change in his mood from severely volatile to healthily sedate. Clint ripped off a paper towel from the roll and handed it over to Tony. His friend took it but just held it in his hand. He knew better than to believe Clint's lies.

"Where's Bruce?" he asked after a time.

"Still out I guess. When you threw him out, you really did it. How much money did you send him with?"

"Forty I think."

"Should run out of cab fare soon then. I'm sure he'll be back after he enjoys a little of the New York City life. You eat lunch yet?"

"Don't—no. No."

"You don't know, or no you didn't?"

"Didn't."

"Fine, let's go get something upstairs unless you want food from the court downstairs."

"No, up."

"Up it is, maestro. Steve, call the elevator. Tony, get your feet moving. I'm cooking."

They moved into the elevator as a single entity, Tony's phone began to ring in his pocket. He read the number, Bruce, and set it on speaker. He wasn't sure he was quite ready for good conversation so he handed the phone to Clint.

"Archer extraordinaire and not Tony's private secretary?" Clint said by way of greeting.

_"Hi, Clint, it's Bruce. Hey look, don't expect me back till late. I met someone and we're going to dinner after she heads over to her boss' place."_

Tony took the phone back. "You what?!"

There was giddy laughter in the background and Bruce's voice returned. "_I told her you'd say that. It's fine, don't wait up. I'll be back late."_

The phone cut out and the three men in the elevator were trapped in their own astonished looks.

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thank you for the fun reviews! please enjoy!


	3. Chapter 2

a/n: been sick last few days so this update comes a little late. now i have to catch up on near a whole week of veterinary classes so the next update may be delayed as well, please forgive

(shameless plug: Winter Soldier was AWESOME!)

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Chapter 2

Bruce had always liked New York. As a kid, he sometimes went there to visit an aunt or an uncle, he couldn't remember which. The city erupted with life. It was Christmas time back then and the tree in Central Park was the most magical thing in the world to him. Back then, he would have given anything to be in New York. Since? Times had remarkably changed.

The first time he entered the city in his split personality, he was fighting a giant mutant red abomination that was supposed to be his own body double. In the process, most of Harlem was demolished. The second time he returned was via falling out of a heli-carrier while he was attached to a jet. A warehouse took the brunt of that hit. And the very last time, he rode in gallantly on a borrowed scooter and assisted in demolishing an alien invasion, Thor, Loki, Grand Central Station, numerous office buildings, and more monster aliens than he could care to keep track of.

While that time may have been more beneficial than not, it still left a painful reminder of what he was capable of doing. And if Thor couldn't stop him, an alien from a realm so powerful the entire planet bent to his whim, then nothing on this world or any other could.

Going out with Tony or Clint, even Steve beside him, was expected; it was normal. It made him feel safe and, in some ways, in control. But to be stuck like that? Sitting on the outside looking in was a kind of abandonment Bruce was getting used to not feeling. Tony was right, it wasn't an often occurrence, but it happened now. Bruce pressed his back against the glass walls and looked out over the city of New York. He swallowed back his inhibitions and prepared to take that one big step forward.

On a whim, he reached over and tugged the door handle again but, as yet, Happy was not about to let him back in. A few confused workers clustered around the entry, staring at Bruce. He ducked his head and decided to escape from the glares while he still had the chance. At any point, that mob may just mutiny and Bruce was not inviting a recreation of mediaeval times.

The rain wasn't falling too hard but it was enough to be a bother as he dodged through the umbrella-laden foot traffic. It was prime time for workers commuting to their daily grind. Adding to the fact Bruce didn't want to be out to begin with, the jarring public, and the rain he was already gearing up to have a miserable first morning out. Where he planned on going was another good question he couldn't rightly answer. Steve's passing suggestion of a coffee was the only place he could think of that was both close by and dry. He was thankful for the cash Tony at some point slipped into his pocket.

The place was called _Monday Mornings_. It was a particular Thursday morning favorite of Clint and Miss Romanov for the unofficial "Bagel Thursday" holiday. Tony and he had gone along once or twice when Natasha was still in town so he knew the way.

The corner shop was teeming with people inside and out. The ones standing outside were beating their umbrellas while, inside, most squeezed into one line or another. Service seemed fast. Even though the pack of people was less than he bargained for, Bruce was willing to brave it on this one day out.

He stepped through the door...

And ran right into a woman.

She turned into his chest with a billfold overfilled with papers in one arm and two cups, stacked top to bottom, in the other. Her hair was a frazzle of brown, her collar half buttoned, coat askew, and an unwrapped power bar was sticking out of her mouth. Bruce imagined if Velma from Scoobie-doo had an updated wardrobe, she'd look a lot like what stood before him now. The cups tipped back against her blouse and the papers went flying. All at once, there was a general breakdown right at the doorway of _Monday Mornings_.

"Crap, hold on! Wait! Just stop moving a second and let me grab this." Bruce struggled to right the woman. First he grabbed the billfold and placed it under his arm. Both leaned down to grab the paper stacks together, only succeeding in crashing heads. She shot up, the back of her head connecting with the bottom of a table which made her fall forward. Bruce snatched her in free fall and whatever remained of the coffee cups hit him after first rebounding off the floor.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! Here let me get that!" Velma scrambled to her feet and grasped a handful of paper towels off the counter. She passed them, in copious amounts, up and down Bruce's arms and hands. By now she was soaked, the floor plastered in whatever paperwork was once wrapped up in her billfold and the men and women attempting to get in or out were interrupted in that trek.

Bruce stilled her hands. "Hey, it's ok. Follow me a sec and move out of the way for the people."

Taking his advice, they moved. Bruce took her folder and they pressed sideways into a small corner near the front entry. Velma held on to the fists of napkins.

"I'm so sorry." She continued, trying to smooth her blouse. "I was just running to work. It's my first day. My boss told me to grab him a coffee on the way in and I was just so flustered, I—"

Bruce stopped her. "Hang on. You're making it worse. Hand me those." He took the napkins from her hand and grabbed a few more offered from a couple at a nearby table. Bruce shrugged out of his over shirt and used the back of it to wipe off his hands. He swung it over his shoulder and took one of Velma's hands to work the coffee off the jacket.

"Where do you work?" he asked.

"Stark Industries." She replied. "Well, I did. It was day one. Today was day one. I'm late so this is probably the last day too."

Bruce grinned. "Yeah, well, maybe not. I kinda know the place. You could say I work there too."

She leaned forward. "Really? With Mr. Chadlowski's department? I'm up for the secretarial post with—"

Bruce finished with her second sleeve and had just looked up to her face when their eyes met. She stopped talking. The little face of big eyed innocence crumbled into a haphazard disappointment. Her body deflated.

"Bruce Banner?" she asked.

Bruce nodded. "Hard to hide this charming face, I guess."

She worked the buttons on her jacket and removed it. Beneath it, the pink sleeveless blouse was staining brown. "Should have known my luck."

Bruce took the jacket from her. It was then he noticed the symbol on the billfold he carried. It was one of a hawk (or at least that's what Hawkeye would argue), some said it was an eagle. Either way, it was the distinct depiction of a member of SHIELD.

"Hmm." Bruce said. "Working on Level Three? First day?"

She gave him a sidelong look. "Not anymore. How's that for blown cover. Don't even get inside the building and I run into Bruce Banner on a street corner. My C.O.'s going to ream me for this."

Bruce chuckled. "Look at it this way, least it was me then Stark. Think he's a little sick of SHIELD infiltrators since Romanov broke his heart."

The woman smiled. "Black Widow. I think it's required."

"Probably. If Barton found you out though—" His eyes rolled a little at the thought.

They stood apart for a few minutes, not doing anything but just looking at each other. Now that her act was interrupted before it could start, Bruce could see she was a little more strong jawed then Velma from the Scooby crew. He handed her suit jacket back.

"So, I'm guessing the Miss Relark on your name badge is a little skewed from reality?" he said.

"Not my first pick." She replied. "I screwed up a snatch and grab a little bit ago. My C.O. decided this was a formidable circle of Hell for my crime."

"Working for Stark was a circle of Hell?" Bruce asked. After the words left his mouth he instantly understood the reasoning behind it. "Never mind, don't answer that."

"Morrissey."

"Excuse me?"

She grabbed her file from him and tucked it in her arm. "Helen Frances Morrissey. My parents managed to get both names in before they died. SHIELD does appreciate their little orphans."

"Hey, I didn't mean to—"

Morrissey patted his arm. "Thanks, it's ok. And thanks for cleaning me up. And sorry about destroying your morning. I think I'm going to go off into a dark theater and cry or something."

She slid past him and headed into the far end of the restaurant. She'd given up on actually eating something by this point and continued out the door. The rain was coming down heavier now. Adding that to the coffee stains and she'd be soaked down in no time.

Bruce looked over at the counter and gauged just how long it was going to take before he had a decent shot at breakfast. Given how his morning was already going and the overwhelming claustrophobia he was now experiencing, he decided the best recourse was to do something completely unplanned.

He threaded his way through the doorway and took a few minutes in the rain to track down just what direction Morrissey had gone in. He trotted up behind her, in time to catch a few more papers that wiggled their way out of her stuffed binder.

"Just losing yourself all over the place." Bruce said.

Morrissey spun around. "Oh, Dr. Banner!"

"Bruce." He corrected.

She took the papers. They were relatively useless now given everything they'd been covered in. She found a trash can and strode right up to it. In went the entire portfolio. After that her jacket, then a few wads of papers from her pockets, a plastic badge—"You never know how much you take with you for a job until you really start to unload."

Bruce strode up beside her. "I couldn't imagine. The last real job I had I pioneered in gamma radiation and I think half the world knows how that turned out."

She snickered, looking up at him. "So is that you confirming an employment with Stark Industries?"

Bruce shrugged, wiping the rain from his eyes. "Can I plead the Fifth on that one?"

"I could always give you some truth serum." She replied.

"I've got a better idea. How about we head to that diner, dry off, and actually eat some breakfast? It's the least I can do for ruining yours, and Tony's paying." Bruce said.

Morrissey looked over at the inviting warmth just inside the windows. Then she considered Bruce for a much longer minute. "I'm not due to check in until late tonight."

:(:):(:):

Bruce twisted the bottom of his shirt to release the hold of rainwater. By the time Agent Morrissey and he made the decision to go to the diner, the sky had opened up in a torrent. They hadn't even reached the door before they were wet to their underclothes. Both signaled an apology to the waitress, who shrugged like the last thing she had to worry about in life, was them getting the carpet wet.

Being that breakfast in this place was a sit down event, most of the booths were empty. The concrete jungle outside had little time to waste in the non-grab-and-go part of town. They took up a spot in a corner and proceeded to delve into menus and breakfast. Over that, came conversation which became an unexpected pleasantry Bruce never anticipated he'd be having, let alone enjoying. When he made the split second decision to chase after Morrissey, he wasn't sure why. In his head, he told himself it was because he felt bad for the girl. He _had_ ruined her job before she even started and maybe he owed her something for that. But sitting in the booth across from Agent Helen Frances Morrissey, there was a little piece of Bruce reminding him of an all-too forgotten fact: He was the Hulk second and a man first. And that man was attracted to this girl. Letting her just take off would have stopped something before it started.

Her brown eyes flicked to his over her lemonade straw. "Dr. Banner?"

He snapped out of whatever reverie he'd sunk into. "Hmm? Oh, sorry. Bruce. Call me Bruce."

"Bruce then. Enjoying the view?"

Bruce laughed and nodded. "Sorry. Sometimes I stare. It's an old science habit, I'm told. Too used to observation."

"For a second I just thought I had a bug on my face or something." She replied.

"You know," Bruce leaned back in the booth, pushing his empty plate to the center of the table. "I don't do this much. Actually, I don't do this ever. It's been a long time since—well. What I mean to say is this conversation has been enjoyable."

She twirled the straw around the ice in her cup. "I don't do this much either. I've been in training the last four years. Iraq and Afghanistan three years. So that's what? Seven years of solid," she let her hand come up and fall soundlessly to the table. "I don't know. Apparently I'm just not cut out for all this spy stuff. You know Agent Barton and Agent Romanov. Going through basic, that's all I was looking to be. They are legends at what they do. No exit strategies? That's just insane."

"Harsh standards." Bruce said. "Not that you can't do it. From what you've told me, you sound very dedicated. But those two… they wouldn't be what they are without the people that supported them along the way. You think Barton had it easy becoming the only man in the world who could shoot an arrow through a Twinkie seven buildings away?"

She snickered again. "No, I suppose not."

"That's right. He had one hell of a childhood and a lot of men to pick him up afterwards. Like Agent Coulson. I doubt Clint would be anywhere except a gutter knowing, now, everything Phil did for him. Sounds like that C.O. of yours is a real hard case."

Morrissey shrugged. "That's one way to put it. And thanks, I know that was your attempt at flattery and cheering me up. I appreciate it."

Bruce propped his legs up on the bench beside her. She disarmed him in a way few people could. For one, he was naturally cautious of any new person attempting to enter his life. For two, she was a secret agent. That didn't always have a good ending according to his track record.

More than that was his attraction to her. She was strong, spunky, vulnerable, and she knew exactly who he was and what he could do and yet she did not run at the sight of him. Not a lot of people could claim that upon first meeting him. Then something else entered Bruce's thoughts. He had considered it, dismissed it, but now that little nagging feeling just would not go away.

"Hey look, if this is all just some SHIELD ploy to get close to me or to get another in with Stark, just tell me. In fact, you don't even have to say anything. I don't really know what I'm thinking." Bruce pulled out his wet pocket cash and dropped it on the counter for the waitress.

"But, Bruce, wait!"

"Good luck with that CO." He said.

Morrissey placed some extra money down for her meal and a bigger tip then rushed out after him. He'd forgotten his over shirt on the back of the chair and grabbed it on her way by. She called his name, not expecting him to stop. He was nearly jogging back toward the Tower by the time she was out of the diner but that didn't stop her from running after him.

"Bruce! Dr. Banner, please, wait! You forgot this!"

Bruce heaved a little. Just that short jog was enough to do his lungs in. He felt out of shape. Lazy days in the lab were not helping his physique. The rain had stopped pounding and most of the clouds were moving on to reveal a surprisingly blue sky hidden above them.

Morrissey stretched her hand out to return his plaid shirt.

"Hate for you to lose that lumber jack motif." She said.

Bruce looked at it, wondered to himself if it was bugged now, but took it back anyway. He could always throw it in the trash later so as not to insult her.

"Thanks." He said.

"Look, I'm sorry if I said too much there." She told him. Her hands were in her pockets. It was a tight fit the way the rain had them flattened and snug. Bruce knew he stared at those pants long enough to be inappropriate.

"I just wanted you to know that I'm not. SHIELD, I mean. I mean, I am SHIELD. But this wasn't like a backup plan or anything and I didn't mean to spill those coffees on you or have you invite me to breakfast, but I want you to know that I didn't mind spending time with you because, well, I kind of liked the attention. And I liked talking with you...and, there I've said it."

Bruce chewed on his bottom lip. He looked back to the glistening edges of the Tower calling him home. His hands twisted around the collar of his shirt. Good judgment said he was lonely. He was out for the first time in weeks and looking at a girl, and said girl was cute and attractive. She was making it obvious she was interested in him, so what was the hold up?

"Promise?" Bruce asked. "No tricks. Serious business happening here?"

She raised her right hand. "I, Agent Morrissey, do solemnly swear that I have no ulterior motive in my pursuit of your attention."

Bruce looked back at the Tower. There, was safety, refuge, sanctuary. Here, he was treading in waters he hadn't dared step in since Betty and he split.

"You know what?" Bruce sighed. "Stark always says I need to get out more. How much time do you have before checking in?"

"Tonight, nine-o-clock I need to report to my C.O. that I did not get the Stark job." She replied.

"You know where I haven't been in a while?" He turned and grabbed her elbow in his hand. Together, they walked across the intersection towards 5th Avenue. "Central Park."

"Are we walking the whole way?"

"Yup. Gives me a chance to convince myself how stupid I'm being for doing this."

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so there is chapter 2! those may remember Agent Morrissey from Bagel Thursday, i figured using a recycled OC isn't too bad:)


	4. Chapter 3

a/n: Oh...this one's a little short.

* * *

Chapter 3

When Bruce started this day the same way he started every other, he never expected to end it with a beautiful woman wrapped in his arms. He still had trouble trusting his eyes, still having to reach out and run his fingers down the line of her spine, or trace his thumb across her cheek bones. She was still there, in his grasp, real. Reservation was a difficult emotion to overcome. It kept pulling him back, grounding him in the fact that this could not possibly be real. There was no way that he had fallen this hard, this fast, in a perfect fairytale moment.

First, they endured the coffee shop run-in, breakfast at a diner, and a warm stroll in Central Park before the rain chased them under a stone arch. There they waited, arm in arm, for the rain to pass. Standing became tedious, so they sat instead. She was cold, so was he. They embraced. They looked at one another and, at last, a kiss.

Electricity spread like lightning along his face and arms. The world erupted and fireworks burst in the air. His hand grasped her hair, she twisted slightly into him. Time itself crawled in their moment of unbridled, unhinged passion, Summer love in all its glory hitting them like a thousand of Cupid's arrows.

The stars lifted for a moment from their eyes as a pair of hoof clops interrupted them. Like ashamed teenagers Banner and Morrissey shot to their feet to meet a mounted patrol. The officer was surprised to see that the entwined lovers he was interrupting weren't just a couple of kids.

"Hey, folks, I know it looks like the tunnel of love in here, but do me a favor and break it up." The officer said.

"I am _so_ sorry." Bruce said, tucking his shirt in. How did it come untucked? Morrissey was buttoning the top of her blouse. A lump filled his throat. Did he really almost do _that_? _Here_? "I don't know what's wrong with me, I've never done anything like this before. I swear."

The officer shrugged. "Hey, look. I get it. Just don't keep getting it here. Find a hotel or something, the rain let up."

When had the rain stopped? Bruce wondered. He squeezed the muscles of his arms as if to ascertain their size beneath his shirt. He felt normal, he didn't feel green, and how had that possibly happened when his biggest love life road block was the permanent Hulk threat excitation aroused. Bruce smoothed his hair, looked for his glasses. Morrissey handed them over. Morrissey fished one heel out from behind him and began strapping it on. She was so flustered she couldn't speak.

"Yes sir, will do. Wait, no I mean won't happen again. We're heading home."

"Home?" Morrissey asked, bent over strapping on her heel.

"My place. The Tower. Or dinner. Is it dinner time? I think I lost my watch." Bruce looked around them. He found it on Morrissey's wrist. She slipped it off with a blush and he put it on.

The officer couldn't help laughing. "All right. Wherever you're going, don't let me catch you at it. Have a fun evening, folks." He tapped his horse and they clopped away through the tunnel.

When he was out of sight, Morrissey collapsed onto Bruce, laughing hysterically. Bruce could do little to stop her as he was doubled over too. They'd been under there for more than an hour. It felt like no time at all. They'd eaten a quick lunch supplied by one of the many roach coaches littering the park. They weren't really in the mood for dinner. Time was getting away from them, however, and if Morrissey had to check in by nine they were in danger of her missing that time frame unless they got moving.

He helped her into her shoe. She gave him back his plaid shirt, and together they struck out at a steady lope through Central Park. They were still fighting laughter all the way, making running at all a comical feat in itself. They didn't want to part. The last thing in Bruce's mind was to set this girl in a cab and watch her drive off into the city with no way of expecting them to be together again. Today was risk taking day. Today was a day he was prepared for everything. Today he stepped out into New York City and destroyed nothing. He was invincible.

"Do you have to go? In person?" Bruce asked. They were standing on a corner by the Columbus Circle. Night was just beginning to set in as the sun was blocked on the horizon by the building spires. Bruce had her hand in his. He wasn't willing to let it go.

"Yes, in person." She told him. "It's not far. My C.O.'s going to give it to me for blowing cover so quick."

"Blame me." Bruce said. "My fault I bumped into you."

She lifted their hands, pressing her lips to the back of his. "Probably get it worse for that."

"Should I come with you? Call it a character witness." She threw her head back and laughed. "Don't laugh, I could. Besides I think you still owe me dinner."

"Owe **_you_** dinner? Oh what is this mine ears doeth hear, Horatio Hornblower?"

"I got breakfast, you get dinner. Fair trade."

"I never said—"

He couldn't help it. Today somehow his inhibitions were gone. He was free. He was out. And this day was not going to end right now if he had any say in it. He pulled her body to his, threaded his fingers through her hair and silenced her with a kiss.

:(:):(:):

Tony was standing in the kitchen with a bowl in one hand and a jug of milk in the other when he saw them go by. Bruce was on his feet, but barely. Morrissey was off her feet. Her ankles were crossed around Bruce's back their faces were intertwined along with their arms, hands, bodies, and pretty much everything else. As they made their stumbling way past the kitchen, they ran into the random half column Pepper placed in the hall for decoration. Whatever was on it fell off. Bruce laughed, Morrissey moaned, and down the hall they continued to skitter until they were out of sight. Tony poured milk out of his bowl and onto the counter as he watched the shocking progression. His attention flipped to Pepper who was sitting on the couch with a sleeve of Oreos.

"Did you just?" Pepper let her voice trail as her finger pointed at the hall.

"I _did_ just." Tony replied.

"He said he met someone." Pepper affirmed.

"I assumed it was someone like old or dead."

Pepper gave him a look.

Tony shrugged. "I don't know about you, but I'm having JARVIS run a back ground check."

Pepper sniggered.

"He's my friend. It's what friends do. Besides, I better hop on it before the Hawk rolls out of his nest and finds a random chick in the place. He might just try to kill her if his hearing aids aren't in." Tony took a paper towel to the counter where the milk overflowed. Whatever 3 a.m. cereal bowl he'd planned to make no longer mattered.

"Should we just go wake him up and warn him?" She asked.

Tony smiled. "Nope. I kinda want to go spying. My Brucie is growing up."

Pepper straightened out across the cushions of the couch. "Tony, after watching that I can pretty much guarantee what they are up to. And I don't want to see it on one of your spy screens."

Tony stood over the back of the couch. "Yeah, be like some weird Avengers' porno. That is not G-rated."

"I don't think what they just did in your elevator is G-rated." Pepper pointed out, popping an Oreo into her mouth.

Tony's face twisted. "Oh dear God. I'm bleaching it."

* * *

in the words of my editor: Wow! Morrissey is...easy

ah, sometimes a girl gets crazy. and who can resist Mark Ruffalo?


	5. Chapter 4

a/n: longer chapter this time around, so please enjoy. sensual content is referred to, but is definitely not explicit.

* * *

**Smashed Through the Heart**

**Chapter 4**

Daylight filtered in a thin strip from the shade on the window. It was just enough to have her rolling slightly in bed as the sun worked its magic as a natural alarm clock. She stretched her arms over her head, the cotton sheet caressing against her naked body.

Naked?

Morrissey shot up in bed and looked around. A hand that had been draped across her waist fell instead into her lap. She lifted the garment, traced the hand, and ended at the face of a man it took her no time to recognize. Bruce Banner. She buried her face in her palm.

"Oh thank God." She whispered. She lay back against the pillows, readjusting his arm across her waist. For a moment she was worried that somehow she'd woken up in some other bed. After all, she hadn't much experience at this sort of thing. It took a little longer to retrace their steps until this point she'd awoken to.

Bruce suggested going with her to the check in. She didn't want to inconvenience him, but he felt like being inconvenienced. She was happy for the ride along. Her C. O. gave her Hell. She'd expected it. For the second foul up in as many weeks she'd been put on suspension. Apparently the man had to rethink her value with the organization. All Bruce and she heard was vacation time. Suddenly she was much less disappointed about the time off. They had dinner. Then they danced. They found a new club and they danced some more. Bruce invited her back to the Stark mansion. She might have refused. Any rational person would have. After all she was playing with fire with the hopes of getting Bruce's blood pressure pumping. No one would blame her if she walked away and pretended nothing ever happened. But she didn't. In another fit of passion they locked bodies in the elevator and still hadn't let go.

Her eyes closed in the band of sunlight over her face. She relived the press of Bruce's lips against hers. The feel of his muscles rippled beneath his shirt, right before she tore it off. It took time to make it out of the elevator. Her legs were wrapped around his middle and his lips were placing tracks down her neck. When they got out it was a stumbling journey to the bedroom. They were intoxicated in each other by then and stopping was never in the vocabulary of all their lovely whispers. She wondered when she would be escaping the wrath of the Incredible Hulk but surprisingly the opportunity never came. Bruce remained in his own skin throughout the night.

Morrissey traced her fingers through his hair, producing a satisfied moan from him. She smiled to herself, leaned over and planted a kiss on his forehead.

"Going for coffee. Don't wander off." She whispered to him.

She eased out of bed, cushioning his arm with a pillow and leaving him with the sheet. She pulled on the robe she found tucked beside the bathroom door and walked out into the hall in search of the kitchen.

The agent had somehow noticed the kitchen on their way to Bruce's room last night. Bruce had mentioned his five-ish roommates over their midnight cocktails but as of yet no one was awake. She could manage, though. Foreign kitchens were not that big of an obstacle. The coffee pot was on the counter. A new single-shot Keurig which made life a little easier. A slow inspection of the upper shelves revealed the cups. With one she filled the water reservoir then turned around in search of the coffee selection.

"Morrissey!"

The agent nearly launched out of her skin. She barely saved her coffee cup from hitting the floor. Her head snapped around until she could see the man who did not sound like Bruce and yet called her out. Her heart dropped to her feet.

"Agent Barton!" Morrissey exclaimed.

Barton was dressed in little more than a set of sleep pants. He was half awake. He rushed around the kitchen island and grabbed her by the elbow fiercely.

"What are you doing here?!" Clint demanded. "How did you even get here?! What is this?!" he gestured to the robe, the cups, and her blatant attempt at coffee.

Morrissey was so shocked at seeing an agent she wasn't sure what to do. They'd only met for the first time on a short mission not long before, her first big SHIELD screw up. Now seeing him in this place was a shock she couldn't quickly recover from. "I'm, Bruce and I—"

Clint let her go as if she'd burned him.

"Bruce? You and Bruce? You're the girl he—You know what, I'm calling the Director and I think I might just kill him over this. What does he think he's doing putting an agent on Bruce like that? What were you thinking?!"

The female agent sat back and listened to his rant for a moment. The second he even insinuated that the only reason Morrissey was here was to entrap Bruce Banner in some horrible way she could stand no more. With all her gusto behind it she shot out and socked him, hard, right across the jaw.

Clint's back was turned and he couldn't hear it coming, making her cheap shot connect considerably more than he would typically allow. Clint caught her fist before she could try it again and the two wrestled by the kitchen island. Morrissey grabbed a knife from the sink. Clint held a hunk of her hair. The knife went for his belt line and her head was yanked back and down. Trapped like that, they could do little but stare right at each other.

"I am NOT ensnaring Bruce. Call my C.O. I'm on administrative leave for screwing up on my second op. You were on the first one I bombed. I met Bruce yesterday."

"You expect me to believe that?" Clint growled.

"I expect you to figure out what you're planning to do with me because I'll give you five seconds before I start cutting." Morrissey replied, tapping her knife against him.

Clint twisted her arm, yanked her head back and in two moves Morrissey was on her knees in front of him and the knife was to her throat. She blinked up at him, adrenalin surging through her veins. There was no telling what he was about to do to her, especially after that empty threat she'd thrown at him.

"I'm sorry." She said as if it would matter. "But I'm telling the truth."

Clint kept her there for a moment as he debated inwardly. What could Fury possibly gain from this? What could SHIELD? They already had Natasha and Clint on the inside. Was it possibly she had just randomly run into Bruce while he was out for the first time in months? Slowly he let her go.

With a perfect throw he tossed the knife back into the butcher block. "_My_ house. _First time_ someone ever tried to pull a knife on me in my own house." Clint growled under his breath. He rubbed his eyes to try and wake up.

She picked herself off the tile floor and leaned on the island. "I'm sorry. Honest. But what did you expect me to do? I'm not here to spy on him or to hurt him."

Clint turned on her with a ferocious look in his eyes. She backed away from him.

"Look, I don't know what you're up to. If you are really here for Bruce, great. But if you're just here to break his heart or tear him up then you better walk out now before I find out about it."

"I'm not." She said. "Bruce's still in there sleeping. I came out to make him a coffee. And frankly, I could have just changed and walked out that door but I didn't."

Clint shrugged. "You want a prize for that?"

"Oh, please." She grabbed her mug back off the island and set it next to the coffee maker. She opened a few cupboards in search of the Kerig cartridges. The little tiff with Clint made her forget which ones she'd already checked.

Clint watched her move around the kitchen. He knew what she was looking for. He also knew where they were. At the same time he preferred to watch her struggle for a bit and have a longer time to observe her. He still was not completely convinced she was clean. What were the odds? Astronomical, he surmised.

She turned her attention from the upper cabinets to the lower ones, then to the center island. When it was obvious she was running out of options, Clint finally approached. He reached above the refrigerator and pulled down the box. He dropped it in front of the coffee maker and retreated back to his corner wordlessly.

"Thanks." She told him.

The archer didn't reply. He stood there watching her make coffee one cup at a time. The sugar was already out and she took a carton of creamer out of the fridge. She hesitated after adding an unfamiliar mixture to one cup. Clint assumed that belonged to her. She didn't know what to put in Bruce's.

"One sugar, lot of cream." Clint said.

"Thanks again." She stirred in the mixture, replaced the cream and sugar, and grabbed the two cups. "Seen enough?" she posed.

Clint turned away from her and headed up the hallway. She could only assume he was returning to his room. She followed behind, breaking off at Bruce's door. It was still open, allowing her to slip inside before letting the gears push it closed again.

At the smell of coffee entering the room, Bruce stirred in the bed. He arched his back, stretching his arms over his head in the increasing beams of sunlight penetrating the window screen. It was the first time Morrissey noticed that there were no curtains on the window at all. Instead a tinted mechanical layer was being progressively opened like the shade of a transition lens. She crossed to the bed, perching at the bottom wrapped in his robe with her knees tucked up to her chin.

He smiled at her. "Hey, thought I was supposed to make the breakfast in bed."

She passed him a cup, holding hers between long laced fingers. The heat of it was pleasant against her palms. "I'm an early riser."

"I am too. Guess I was tuckered out."

"Can't imagine why that might be."

"I think you may have had something to do with it." He eased back against the headboard and stirred the coffee with his spoon. He took a careful sip to judge the heat. "Not bad. Did you telepathically figure out how I like my coffee?"

She sipped her own cup. She'd be a liar too if she didn't say it was one of the best she'd ever tasted. "I cheated. Agent Barton told me."

Bruce snorted. He lost some of his coffee down the stubble of his chin. "Clint? He's up?"

"And raring to go. We had a pleasant conversation about my positive attributes and what my intentions towards you were."

A toothy smile now. "Your _intentions_ toward me? That's a new one. And what did you say?"

"I said that I was not here to investigate you and if I'd wanted to leave I'd be gone by now."

"But you're not."

She raised her mug in a toast. "Well, fancy that."

He leaned forward and they chinked their glasses. He took another sip and set it to the side table before readjusting on the bed until he was sitting beside her. She grabbed his hand in hers and gently caressed his wrist.

"Clint's protective. He's a great friend. Don't take it personal, he's just looking out for me."

"Oh I didn't." She replied. "I did hold a knife to him and I don't really think he appreciated that."

Bruce chuckled. He looked at her disbelievingly. "Yeah I can't imagine he would. Were his hearing aids in?"

Morrissey gave him a surprised look.

"Clint is 80% deaf. When he's here, he doesn't feel the need to wear his hearing aids in bed. When he wakes up in the morning he might walk around without them for a while. I think he likes the quiet."

"I don't know… I didn't even think about it. I mean I never knew about that. Sure does explain some things."

"He probably didn't hear you. Then you surprised him is all. Was he satisfied when you didn't slit his throat? Or is he out there bleeding into the tiles right now?"

"Come on, he's a level six agent. I hardly touched him." She leaned forward and placed her cup on the nightstand by Bruce's. "That was good coffee."

"I think Tony gets it from civet cats or something." Bruce said. "No, no, don't look like that. I'm kidding. I swear. I think he literally flies to Columbia for it. He has this thing against Foldgers. I don't know what it is." As he rambled his hand moved from hers and circled her back instead. She liked looking into his face when he spoke. His eyes would dance with color and life. His mouth was smooth and expressive. The more he rambled the more she watched and the more she liked it. Before he could finish her lips found his.

:(:):(:):

"Your choice. Eggs or eggs. Then there is the option for cereal but as this morning's chef it would make me feel just slightly inadequate to make you a bowl of cereal."

Morrissey rested on the edge of a stool at the kitchen island watching Bruce twirl around in the kitchen. His fridge inspection came up with less hopeful options then he'd anticipated and now he was reeling to make that short coming up. She graced him with asking for eggs and allowed his manly personality to come out by professing the best omelet she'd ever tasted was coming up. She traced her finger around the rim of her reheated coffee mug. They'd forgotten the drinks long enough to let them go cold. Summer love in all its assets was a distracting thing indeed.

Bruce had only managed to start the omelet on the stove top. He offered her a glass of juice, went around the island to give it to her, but never made it back to the omelet from there. Morrissey had him in her arms.

"Seriously?" Clint exclaimed turning the corner into the kitchen. Bruce had Morrissey attached to his neck.

Bruce straightened, resetting his glasses on his nose. He was somewhat embarrassed to be caught, again, but losing himself in an emotion other than rage was such a pleasant release there was only so much regret he could have about it.

Morrissey patted his leg. "Eggs are burning."

Bruce rushed away to tend the stove.

Clint watched them, inspecting every single action in the same way that made him famous. If there was something hiding behind those intentions it would not take him long to ferret it out. It was hard for him to imagine that nothing was there at all except good intentions.

"Bruce cooking? That's a dangerous prospect." Clint said.

"Hey, I'm not a bad cook!" Bruce replied, managing the smoldering remains of breakfast. He grimaced at the pan and turned his face to Clint. With his free hand he tapped a hand his ear twice.

"No, they aren't in. You're not a good cook either." Clint replied. He moved around the counter and took the pan from Bruce. Without diverting to the waste bin he ran the ruined eggs directly under the sink. He left the pan there and extracted a new one to start over. He pushed Bruce away to restart cooking himself.

"You two—whatever you are—sit there and let me finish this. If I wait around for you to cook all morning I'm going to end up hungry too. What's today?" Clint said, grabbing the carton of eggs.

"Wednesday."

Clint turned to face Bruce. The doctor repeated himself.

Bruce leaned over to Morrissey. "Speak only when he's looking at you so he can read your lips."

She nodded.

"Eggs then." Clint grabbed a carton of milk out of the fridge and whipped a few eggs in a bowl, adding the milk. He searched around for spare ingredients, ending up with a bag of shredded cheese and container of salsa. He held up both to his audience for approval. Bruce was staring at Morrissey. Morrissey was staring at Bruce. In precisely four second they'd be on each other again. Clint was determined to slow this railroading relationship down. He took his spatula and banged on the counter in front of them. The distraction caused both to jump.

"I am making breakfast." Clint said. "Eggs with cheese and salsa. You don't like it speak now before you throw her up against a wall or something."

Bruce sighed. "Clint, I am not going to throw her up against a wall."

"We already did that." Morrissey replied, smiling then remembered about letting Clint read her lips. She decided not to repeat herself.

"Exactly." Bruce said.

Clint dropped the spatula. He didn't know what they were privately giggling about, but he didn't need to. How could anyone stand to be around a couple of people so engrossed in each other like that? It was sick. "Oh my God, you two are impossible. How did this happen? Bruce I saw you leave for a DAY, what did all this?"

Bruce emerged from his dreamlike emersion in Morrissey's eyes to drift back to Clint. "Hmm?" he said.

Clint dropped his head into his hands.

"I ran into him." Morrissey said. "It was an accident."

"She spilled coffee on me." Bruce said.

"I was supposed to report to my post in Stark Industries."

"But I kinda screwed up her cover before that."

"So instead he invited me out to breakfast."

"Then we went to Central Park."

"We danced."

"We _danced_."

By the end of their explanation Clint was staring at the two of them in shock. He was still speechless. There they sat. The two of them looking so happy with each other. Honestly it was like watching a Nicholas Sparks movie. Bruce was ethereal. Morrissey was giddy. It had been less than twenty four hours since they had met.

"I'm making breakfast. So you two do me a favor and keep your hands off each other for like, six minutes? That way I don't just vomit on the plate instead." Clint returned to the eggs. It was probably the best idea not to turn and look at them anymore, but without his hearing aids that was impossible. So long as Agent Morrissey was in Bruce's company, Clint was not going to make the mistake of having to read their lips anymore. It definitely appeared to be a genuine fondness between them. Time would tell.

"Stark Industries? So Director Fury was trying to get someone on the inside?" Clint said as he cooked.

"My group was concerned about security on the inside. I was meant to survey the lower offices to assess the possible information leak from Level 3."

"What would make Director Fury send in an independent team and not inform Natasha and me? What kind of breach does he think this is?" Clint split the eggs between two plates and passed them across the island to Bruce and Morrissey.

Morrissey grabbed her fork and dug in. The long night had given her more of an appetite than she realized. "Thanks. And I don't know. No one gave me a lot of details about the mission besides reporting to my post and bringing coffee along." Clint stood across from them with his own food and ate as they spoke.

"So you're telling me Fury calls you up and says to go start tomorrow at Stark Industries? Just like that?"

She shook her head. "No, I never spoke to the Director. I had all my orders come through Agent Diamond. Bruce knows he was with me yesterday."

Clint almost lost his breakfast. "What?"

"It's no big deal." Bruce said. "Didn't take long. And I think he was determined not to make me mad so Helen got off a little easier."

Clint's eyebrows raised. "Helen?"

"What do you expect him to call me? Agent? Don't answer that. For leaving my SHIELD portfolio within view and allowing Bruce the opportunity to guess my secret identity I was suspended for one week. Next Thursday I'm due in for a board review. If they don't amend my record then I'm either being sent back to my Iraq outfit or Agent Diamond says SHIELD will scrub me out. It's the first time he's threatened me with that."

"Hell." Clint said, pushing his food around. He'd worked so closely with Natasha the last few years he'd forgotten what it was like to be a new agent. Besides that, Coulson was always in his corner. Clint wasn't the best at following orders but at least he had Coulson smoothing the rough edges. Sitting across from a screw up agent reminded him of the time he'd spent in Iraq. A lot of agents went there and never came back.

"Diamond's a hard head. He's been crawling over me since the moment I was transferred."

"What's the likelihood of them trying to scrub you verses Iraq?" Clint asked.

"You mean which would I prefer? I just spent three years there. I think I put in my time. Given that my other option is a bullet to the head, I think my decision is close, but Iraq wins."

Bruce was slowly eating his food as he watched Clint and Helen talk. It was always interesting to have this look into the life of SHIELD agents. Listening to his typical roommates, Natasha and Barton, was an endeavor. Most of the terms they used he didn't understand, and then they would feel the need to exercise their language skills to boot. With a mixture of German, Russian, Farsi, and more flying around keeping up with any train of thought was impossible. He'd also had firsthand experience with what they called "scrubbing out". When an agent discovered Clint had gone deaf and had become a liability, he'd tried to kill Clint in a back alley just outside of the Tower.

"Who were you going to work for down on Level 3?"

"Chadlowski."

"Anyone see you on the way up?"

To that, she looked at Bruce. A silent exchange passed between them.

"I don't think so. The only one around by that point was security and that was Happy." Bruce replied. "Why? What are you thinking?"

"If you're stuck here anyway, then I'll have a talk with Chad. I'll tell him you're some intern or something. I'll figure it out. I don't like SHIELD going behind the team to get a man on the inside around here but if there's a legitimate issue I want to know about it."

Morrissey leaped up in her chair. "Really? You're going to get me in?"

Clint shrugged like it was nothing.

She squeezed Bruce's arm happily then recoiled in shock. "I don't have any clothes! I think I threw my blazer out too."

"You did." Bruce confirmed. "And I think I ripped a few of your blouse's buttons off. Do you still have my watch?"

She looked at her wrist and unsnapped it. "You have this thing about giving to me when you aren't thinking."

"I don't know why I do that. We should find you clothes."

"I'll drive back to my place. Coming?"

"You don't have a car. I'll drive." Bruce got up and the two of them bounded down the hall together like a pair of twitter pated gazelles. Clint watched them, shaking his head left to right. What was he thinking? For that matter, what was Bruce thinking? Clint could have sworn that this little romantic aside was impossible for Bruce unless he wanted to level half of Stark Tower and go tearing off through the city in his green birthday suit. The archer could sit all morning turning the situation over in his mind and get nowhere close to a solution.

While he set about cleaning the abandoned dishes, Rodgers entered the breakfast area.

"Morning." Steve said.

Clint didn't respond.

The captain knew better than to sneak up on him. Instead he went about the kitchen like he normally would, expecting Clint's impeccable peripheral eyesight to identify him better than a tap to the shoulder could. As expected, it worked. Clint nodded a hello.

"Stark already up?"

Clint shut off the water and topped his sponge off with a layer of soap. "Him? Not that I know of. Could have snuck down to the lab and skipped eating. That was Bruce and his new girl you just missed seeing." As he turned to grab the left over eating utensils he had a chance to see the confused look on the captain's face.

"You heard me right." Clint said.

"Like a girl? In the flesh girl?"

"Well if she was inflatable, I'd be a little surprised at how well she could speak." He dropped the dishes with the rest and continued to scrub.

"So he did go out last night then." Steve replied. He grabbed the two cups and brought them over for Clint. Taking the idea he grabbed his mug and worked on getting his own coffee together.

Clint affirmed it. As he worked with getting through the morning dishes he recounted the conversation for Steve's benefit. He enjoyed the range of expressions crossing Steve's fate. It all started with the shock, then the wonderment, then the denial, and lastly understanding. The final emotion was a long time coming, but was prevailed upon by Bruce's appearance. He was dressing hurriedly with a woman Steve could only imagine was Agent Morrissey trailing after him. She was pulling on her stockings and stuffing a set of keys in her pocket.

"Morning, Steve. Be back in a bit. We need to run off and pick Helen up some spare clothes." Bruce said passingly as they raced toward the elevator.

"See you when you get back." Clint said. "And Morrissey?"

She appeared back in the hallway to look at him.

Clint's tone was dead serious. "If there is a security breach in this building you report it to Rogers. Or Stark, or me. You're still on leave. That means you are under us."

Understanding the meaning, she agreed.

Steve watched the pair race off again while his interest in the little development expanded. He wasn't sure what to make of the situation honestly. After all, Bruce had only been in the area for about a day by himself. He doubted Bruce did something like this very often, but regardless it was difficult to know what to do with the information.

Clint didn't say anything for a while as he let Steve digest it all. He'd finished with the sink and dried the dishes with a towel before putting them away. Steve watched Clint displaying this simple sign of domesticity. After fighting alongside the archer, it was bizarre to see him now in the position of a normal man.

"So, what's your take on all this, Steve?" Clint asked after a time.

"I guess that all depends on what you mean." Steve said. "About Bruce having a whirlwind romance with a dame he just met or with the fact that she's a SHIELD spy."

"I'm a SHIELD spy."

"No, you're a friend." Steve corrected. "Didn't you work with this girl once not that long ago? What do you know about here?"

Clint shrugged, leaning back against the sink with the towel turning in his hands. "I met Agent Morrissey two weeks ago on my mission in Baltimore right after I went deaf. My initial assessment was she may have had a few assignments in the field, but not much. Her wardrobe was functional, basic, and SHIELD from the lack of jewelry to the tennis shoes. She likes rock hard cover stories. Means she doesn't have much confidence she can think quick on her feet when a mission goes belly up."

"And yours did as I remember." Steve said.

Clint shrugged. "Yeah, it did. And she can really slap a guy if she needs too. Almost got herself raped. Killed the mark too. It really shook her up."

"I can't imagine." Steve said. He sighed, sipping his coffee. "Tell me honestly, Clint. Is this girl going to be a liability?"

The archer shook his head. "These kinds of girls are always a liability. Its whether or not she is also an asset I don't know."

:(:):(:):

Banner was normally ready to play they're little in-out game in the lobby of Stark Tower sharply at seven in the morning. This was the first day in months that Banner was not there to meet him. He knew that Bruce had spent the night in the company of a lustrous lady who Tony took the time to do a background check on. The only information he could find was tied to a Ms. Helen Relark, a CPA from Lysa, Arkansas who had put in an application for one of Stark's lower office suites one week ago. Tony could imagine all night long how the introduction went, but what took Bruce and Ms. Relark from casually acquaintances to one-night-stand status he absolutely needed to know.

He'd almost given up on waiting for Bruce's appearance when suddenly a flurry of bodies appeared off the private elevator. Banner came barreling over to him with Ms. Relark herself in tow. Bruce was holding her high heels, she had a set of Tony's car keys around one finger. Both were wearing yesterday's clothes along with massive grins.

Tony extended his arms to the side. "Fun night?" he asked.

"Yup, talk later, gotta run!" Bruce pronounced as they flew by him.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Stark!" the woman said.

Tony pivoted as they launched through the Tower doors and spilled out into the New York streets together. Tony wasn't sure what to do with himself. He looked back at the receptionists who were equally jaw-dropped. It was obvious the office pool was over. Bruce was out. And boy was he ever out. As Tony cruised by the desk he looked at the women and Happy.

"So who won the pool?" he asked casually.

One woman reached behind the desk and passed him a sealed envelope. She smiled and said, "Would you bring this up to Agent Barton?"

Tony freed the seal and peered in at the sizable cash amount. "Clint won? Are you kidding me?"

"Guessed it to the hour." The woman replied. "They do say he has impeccable aim."

* * *

oooooohhhhh Clint. :)

Please review and tell me what you think!


	6. Chapter 5

Here is the latest! Enjoy a little tour;)

Chapter 5

Bruce stumbled out of the elevator and entered the lab. He grabbed his white coat from the hook and deftly fed his arms into it while pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He was talking the minute the doors opened.

"I know, I'm late. Sorry. It's been a little bit of a crazy morning. I put gas in the Explorer and I brought lunch. Her name is Helen, she works for you as of this morning, and yes I just met her yesterday." Bruce dropped a brown bag lunch on the work table across from Tony, scattering his holographic images. "There was a fire at her place last night, the whole thing was up in smoke. We were able to save some of her stuff from the apartment but everything was totaled. The pizza oven caught fire."

Tony grabbed the top of the bag and dragged it closer to spy at the contents. A devilish grin lit up his face as he bored into Bruce. "So, how—"

Bruce rapidly launched into his story. "We met in the coffee shop. I ran into her, or she ran into me, and we hit it off. We skipped in Central Park, made out under a bridge, and danced in a night club, checked in to her Field Office, she got suspended and I took her back here."

Tony popped a fry into his mouth. "Uh huh. And you had sex."

Bruce dragged the bag back toward himself and grabbed a fry.

"Don't deny it. Pepper and I saw you take out the vase last night and the elevator got fumigated."

Bruce snorted. "Yeah, well, ok fine. I . . ." he took a deep breath. "I had sex. There. I admitted it."

"Can't help but notice that your room wasn't missing a door, or a wall. Isn't that little act exciting on a person of your condition? Didn't your heart rate monitor freak out?" Tony asked, his scientific curiosity popping out.

Bruce blushed and shrugged. "I had my watch the entire time, and yeah, it increased, but I never really felt out of control. I can't really explain it. That was always the stumbling block with Betty and me and for some reason, there was just nothing. The big guy was behaving himself for once. And I've had a good handle on myself lately."

"That's what she said."

Bruce launched a fry at the side of Tony's face. "Hey, Helen's great."

"For a guy that hasn't had it in a while, I'm sure she was."

Bruce threw his head back. "I am not having this conversation right now."

"Yes you are!" Tony shouted. "We are because you got some, and that's news!"

Bruce laughed. Despite Tony's jests, he had to admit enjoying the playful banter. He did feel like he got something back with Morrissey. Something he hadn't felt in a long time: His humanity. He was a man again. Normal, no strings, no waiting for the men with flak jackets to descend on him. She knew who he was from the start and she didn't care. He felt better than he had in years.

"Did you really see us go by?" Bruce asked, returning to his own work station. Today they'd planned on going over their latest medical endeavor, an intra-cranial implant to take over the majority of the load from Clint's current hearing aids. Clint didn't exactly know about this plan just yet. The idea of him going under the knife, especially for something being implanted in his skull, wouldn't exactly go over well.

"Did I see you?" Tony said with emphasis. He leaned over his table like a pin-up tattoo woman and kicked a heel out. "I was in the middle of a 3-am breakfast. Pepper was feeding me Oreos, and you walk by with Disney's House of Mouse."

Bruce glanced at him and laughed. Tony pumped one shoulder up and down and batted his eye lashes.

"So tell me about it, stud." Tony pressed.

"I think I've told you enough." Bruce replied. "Any more and you're going to go find some heels and reenact our entire date. Oh, that reminds me, I invited her over for dinner tonight. She's on the clock until six. I was going to make some Bengali."

"I love Bengali." Tony quipped.

"I doubt you've ever had it. And you are going to behave yourself."

"Of course I will."

"And you aren't going to pester her, or throw her a line, or fire her."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

The two considered each other for a moment. The bag of lunch was long forgotten.

Bruce shook his head. "I don't believe a word of what you're saying. Just don't scare her off."

"If you wanted scaring off, you should wait for Cat Woman to come back from Kazakhstan."

"Natasha is in Portland." Bruce corrected. "And when she comes back in three weeks, I imagine she'll have as much to say about me dating a SHIELD agent as Clint when he tried to stab her this morning."

Tony instantly abandoned his table and went sailing over to Bruce's station. He set his hands on the holo-table, scattering the latest dimensional programs into the air around them. "What? Wait, I thought you said she works for me? Bruce you're holding out on me, and I have to say I like it. You're all mysterious-y again, you dog you."

"No, no mystery this time. Everything but." Bruce replied. "We're very up front. I ran into her, realized she was SHIELD, she knew me right away and then we went out for breakfast. She was supposed to get a job in your offices that fell through when I ran into her. After she checked in with the field office,they put her on administrative leave for getting outed by me. Apparently, she and Clint were on a mission together. That one in Baltimore? Right after he went deaf?"

Tony nodded his head showing he knew the one.

"Well, they gave her a ration for that one too. So it was either leave, Afghanistan, or a bullet in the alley. She decided to take the leave of absence."

Tony grinned. "They don't often give leaves over at the tight-suit academy. What did you say to them?"

"I said it would keep me very happy to have her take a few weeks off." Bruce said.

"Implying it would make you turn into a giant green rage monster if they did not." Tony elaborated.

"That may have been their general opinion."

Tony snickered, slapping his hand to the side of Bruce's face. Holding his friend's head in his hands he said with loving impression, "You are a dog! I'm proud of you, Bruce! Where is she going to stay now? You said her apartment burned down?"

"I don't know yet. We were talking it over on the drive here. SHIELD assigned her the apartment, a little thing over a pizzeria in Harlem. But since she's on admin leave, we don't think they'll assign her another place. I have my private account so I'm thinking about setting her up—"

Tony waved his arm around the air as if to dispel the suggestion like he would swat a fly. In doing so, he drew his hand from Bruce's face, taking a small amount of hair with him. "Forget it. She can stay here. There's the extra room across from Clint, she can use that. So how is she working for me now?"

Bruce explained the morning's events and his impromptu exit that morning with Helen in tow. He described what Helen had told him of meeting with Barton and Clint's idea of planting her in the lower levels during her leave. For nearly an hour, the two scientists sat and chatted like two high school girls. The afternoon dragged on, and actual work went ignored.

Tony listened with all attentiveness to his friend's adventure, however he was hazard to repeat what no doubt Clint and Steve already instructed. All of this was very abrupt. Running into a pretty girl in the midst of a coffee shop was a as good a set up as any. She was a spy and as such Tony was certain she could have found some way to affect Bruce's normally reserved behavior. Even as he spoke to Bruce, he set the procured hair he'd grabbed into JARVIS' analyzer. If Bruce's new beau had given him something, Tony was going to find out.

* * *

:(:):(:):

* * *

"Don't touch my food." Bruce warned, unrolling his sleeves to button his cuffs. Sitting on the refrigerator watching him was Hawkeye. He'd monitored every minute process of the dinner preparation and, so far, had nothing to say. Clint wasn't a man of many words but the absolute silence over Bruce's cooking prowess made him nervous.

"I'm not touching." Clint told him for the third time.

"I'm going down to pick her up. Happy's bringing her up the service elevator and we're going to switch to the private one on—"

"Bruce you already said that." Steve said kindly. He was sitting on a stool at the island finishing a Gatorade.

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm just nervous I guess." Bruce replied. He straightened his shirt and then straightened his shirt again while checking his watch. He made a brief exclamation and rushed out to the elevator. He was already late.

Tony eased over to the stove and peered into the wok. Everything smelled good, even the strange toasted things still crisping in the stove and the spiced water on the counter. There was a chicken Shahi Korma, Moong Dal, and stuffed parawals. Where Bruce found the majority of his ingredients, most didn't want to know. But this was his day, and he was going to cook, and he was having a girl over for dinner, and that was that.

"I thought Bruce couldn't cook." Steve said.

"It's like Albert Einstein. Man can pioneer the theory of relativity but couldn't tie his shoes. Bruce can't make pancakes, but a four course foreign dish he excels at." Tony replied. He turned up a corner of his mouth. "Oh yeah, you don't know about Einstein."

"I'm not that far removed that I don't know who Albert Einstein is."

"I haven't had Bengali since I was stationed in Pakistan." Clint said. He slid off the fridge to inspect the food closer.

"What is Bengali?" Steve asked. He admitted that it smelled appetizing, but what most of it actually was he couldn't begin to guess.

"You know Bruce spent some time in Calcutta, right?" Clint asked.

Steve indicated he did.

"It's a lot of the native dishes there. Tasha's not big on it. Spices don't like her, she says."

There was a crash in the hall. The column assaulted the night before was now toppled over as Bruce and Agent Morrissey enjoyed a heartfelt greeting. Steve stood off his stool as she entered the room. Bruce was adjusting his glasses on his nose, Morrissey was removing the second sleeve of her blazer.

"Bruce, I'm going to have to revoke your security deposit if you keep romping through the hall like this." Tony said, pulling his bottle of liquor out from beneath the counter. He shook the bottle at Clint who declined.

"That would work if I had a security deposit and didn't work as your science slave for rent." Bruce shot back, smiling. He addressed Morrissey, sweeping his hand to Steve. "This is Captain Steve Rogers. Steve, this is Helen. And the scarecrow with the glowing chest is Tony Stark."

Morrissey extended her hand to Steve. His grip was as strong as she expected from Captain America. He pulled a stool out beside himself for her. She extended her hand to Tony Stark next.

"I don't touch." Tony explained.

She smiled withdrawing her hand. "I suppose I should have introduced myself yesterday seeing as you are my boss."

Before Tony could wind himself up on that point, Bruce displayed the meal. "We have a dining table but we don't ever use it. For the most part we eat at the island or in the living room. We're usually too busy for a meal like this."

Bruce transferred his hand made rotis from the stove to a plate. He stirred the dahl, poured it into a serving bowl, and set the other food out beside it. He spread his hands out over the meal and smiled. "Bon appetit!"

"This looks amazing!" Morrissey exclaimed. "The last time I had dahl was in Pakistan. It feels like forever ago."

Steve looked over at Clint. "Hey, didn't you say the same thing?"

Clint shrugged it off. "Lot of agents have to do a first tour in the Middle East."

Intrigued, Morrissey asked, "Were you in Rawastar?"

Clint narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

Bruce looked between Clint and Morrissey and back. He could feel the tension radiating off of his friend but, given Helen hardly knew Hawkeye, she probably had no idea the cord she'd struck. He thought quickly how to diffuse the situation before it spiraled downward.

"I was in Rawastar." Bruce said. "I went through there on my way to Calcutta a year before the New York attack. I had intended to go back, but with the entire cleanup involved with the Chitauri it was difficult to get away."

Tony had been stacking plates beside Bruce's spread but, half way to setting the last, he stopped. His fingers stiffened.

"Tony?" Clint saw it coming instantly.

Bruce realized what he'd said. It was such a common phrase. Everything in their lives revolved around what happened either pre-New York or post-New York. Usually he was so careful about the words he chose, especially in Tony's presence; after all he knew a thing or two about triggers. He dropped his spoon and turned to his friend, taking the plate stack from him before they crashed to the floor. Morrissey could tell something was happening, but couldn't imagine what. Steve placed a hand on her shoulder to keep her still.

Tony breathed a little faster. His hand began to shake so he placed it in his pocket. With his entire body as tight as a drum, he shifted a little in place to address Clint. "I'm going downstairs."

"I'll walk with you." Bruce said.

He shook his head quickly. "No, no you've got company. Pepper's working late." He was going to go alone and would tolerate nothing more. The others knew better than to press him right away. He nodded at Morrissey. "Nice to meet you." Without saying anything further, Tony left.

Morrissey waited as the tension created an electric current through the air. At first, no one quite knew what to say. The food remained steaming in front of them. The silence was like an impenetrable timber of solemnity.

"Well, that was awkward." Barton finally said. He looked over at Morrissey and the Captain. "Look, now that she's had day one she needs a strategic tour of the Tower itself. Tomorrow is Sunday so while most of the floors are empty I'm taking her around."

Steve glanced toward Morrissey but spoke to Clint. "You do realize she's sitting right here?"

"Yes, I do. I'm deaf, not blind." Clint shifted gaze to the woman. "You're not going to be employed here long enough to require my typical monologue so, for now, what you just saw, didn't happen. Understood?"

"Clint." Banner said quietly.

Barton's hawk-like gaze remained trained on her. Realizing she was supposed to respond, she slowly nodded.

"Yes, of course."

"Good." Clint picked up a plate and passed it over to her. "At least we've developed an understanding. But don't forget. You can investigate around here all you want. But if you're really here to spy out Bruce, I will find out."

Embarrassed, Bruce flushed red and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. "Clint!"

Morrissey smiled, taking it all in stride.

Bruce passed her a plate of food, attempting to keep his head low of any flying remarks he would soon be conjuring out of his friend. But, then again Clint was going to find out eventually and it might as well be sooner than later. "Oh, Helen, Tony and I were talking. There's a spare bedroom across from the Hawk's so Tony invited you to stay here for now."

Clint's face whipped sideways so hard, Bruce thought he would crack his neck. The scientist utterly avoided locking eyes with him, worried that perhaps the medusa glare would turn him to stone.

* * *

:(:):(:):

* * *

Morrissey felt strange about waking up in a room she didn't own, surrounded by a bunch of things that didn't belong to her. The smells were nothing like she had grown used to with weeks of living over top the old pizzeria. It was an even more dramatic change from the dust and sand that consumed her life in Iraq. This was quiet, this was cold, and it felt like little more than a hospital room upgrade. Why she ever agreed to move in with Bruce Banner she would never in her right mind understand.

But sometimes, that's what summer love did.

Her feet balanced on the carpet while debating what exactly she was going to do with herself. Obvious choices were getting up for breakfast, hitting the gym, and maybe learning the layout of Stark Tower a little before she got herself lost in the lower offices. But those things were incidental in the grand scheme. She wondered mostly what she was even doing here.

"Helen, girl, what are you thinking?" she whispered.

Bruce had seen the five-alarm fire as an opportunity to extend his hospitality. She saw it as a chance for their budding romance to grow. As for the rest of the Avengers . . . the jury was officially still out, though, one in particular, had no trouble telling her exactly how he felt. She'd worked with Clint only once before and, at that time, he was obnoxious, non-rule abiding, and even somewhat cantankerous. By the end of their mission, she'd developed an amazing respect for him as an agent. While Morrissey didn't expect to be welcomed with open arms, she was surprised by his hostility. The moment he found out a SHIELD agent caught Bruce's eye, he'd officially had it out for her.

There was a Bible and her dog tags left on the night stand. She slipped the chain over her head and let the metal settle against her skin. Agent Barton had been a live-in fixture since a few weeks following the New York attack. Apparently, tensions were tight on the Heli-carrier after what he'd been forced to do. To keep the peace, he was assigned Avengers' detail permanently. Bruce Banner had been a science twin since Stark and he rolled off together after Loki and Thor departed.

Morrissey smiled. She imagined the two would be buried in the same coffin one day after they'd gone old and grey. She had yet to interact with Agent Romanov, who was still away apparently in Portland tracking down a cellist. Steve was around, friendly, and quiet. Helen knew he was looking at her with all the same scrutiny of Clint Barton. He was just kind enough not to say it to her face.

She pulled a shirt out of the overnight bag she had yet to unpack. In a way, it helped her think of this as just a little vacation from home. She could go back any time, figuratively speaking of course. It was difficult to be convinced of that fact, but leaving herself a packed bag helped.

_"Good morning, Agent Morrissey, the time is now seven-thirty-four. The temperature is seventy-four degrees Fahrenheit. It looks to be rainy today, ma'am, so if you venture out I may recommend an umbrella."_

Helen looked at the ceiling as if to see the invisible entity that was JARVIS. "Uh, thanks."

_"Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark are currently unavailable. Agent Barton requests your presence on level one."_

"Ok, I'm on my way then." She replied.

_"I will inform him."_

Helen slipped on her set of shoes and took a little while trying to figure out how to open her room door. Nothing in the Stark Tower could be made easily, including (especially) doors. In the end, a complicated flip switch was all she had to twist before it sprang free. The hallway she arrived in was similar in both directions. The left hand side stopped at the Tower's private elevator. The right led past Dr. Banner's room to end with Tony and Pepper's suite. She went left.

The route downward was just as complicated as the door handle. Now she understood why Tony had JARVIS wired throughout the building. Without that little AI directing her, she would have gotten lost between the elevator change over on level thirty. Now in the new, non-private, elevator she traveled the rest of the way down until she reached the lobby.

The entryway to Stark Tower was as expansive as Tony's imagination. Columns lined the walls in sharp angles reminiscent of Tony's industrial aesthetic. The floors were a mix of brushed metal and marble. One long reception desk nearly enveloped the entire west wall as a smaller security desk took up the east end.

"Agent." Clint Barton called down. She had to make a few turns around to find his position. Clint could be like that most days. Well, everyday actually. Clint was staked out on a ledge over top of the security desk. The spot was so small she couldn't even see it from the ground. How he even got up there was another story.

Morrissey remembered what Bruce said to her about Barton in the morning. She tapped a finger to her ear.

Clint tapped his own ear, indicating he had his hearing aids in. He scampered down the wall with all the dexterity of a spider monkey and dropped beside Helen. "Figured if you're going to be around a little more, I should introduce you to some of the little quirks." He gestured toward the main lobby. "This is the intake area. Anyone coming in and out of the Tower starts at the receptionists, signs in, goes to Happy at Security, obtains their clearance badge, and takes the stairs or elevators up."

The archer took a new badge from his pocket and handed it to her. "Do not get caught in this Tower without your security badge. Happy will sic the dogs on you."

She took it from him and attached it to her sleeve. She was surprised at how calm and patient he was being with her. Compared to the Clint that glared over an Indian dinner at her the night before, this was a complete turnaround. Bruce must have spoken to him and requested he lighten up, Morrissey decided

"I guess it's not really fair to just ignore what happened with Tony last night, so I'm going to let you in on our very tiny loop. You should not be repeating this with anyone in SHIELD. Avengers' matters are kept in house. Understand that?"

She agreed.

"After New York, he's been having recurring PTSD so just have some kid gloves with him."

"PTSD?"

Clint shrugged. "I'm kind of the eyes and ears around here so I pick up things quick. Like the fact that you didn't unpack last night. Pepper works on level Thirty-Three most days. Corner office and a wing almost completely to herself. If Tony is looking rough, do us all a favor and just go get her. She can handle him better than you, me, or Bruce ever could."

"With the PTSD you mean?" She asked.

"You've been in war. I know you've seen it."

That she couldn't refute.

"Yeah, well, Stark doesn't like to put a name on it. You'll know it when you see it. Last night you saw it."

She nodded. "Anything else I should know?"

"Yeah," he said as he walked toward the stair well. "Everything else."

They took the stairs up to the first level. Clint pulled open the access door and in they went. Helen threaded her way after Barton through the countless aisles of cubical workers. Most were away for the weekend and those that had stayed for a Sunday shift were so engrossed in the two passing by that working in any sense was a very loosely applied term.

"First few floors are nothing put paper pushing, general level intellectual stuff." Clint announced as they walked. "These are the people that keep all the logistics that Tony hates in line. Without them, I doubt he could even keep the lights on. So be nice. But I probably don't have to tell you that."

"Yeah, I get it." She said, keeping up.

Clint took a sharp turn at the end of the row and led them back to the stairwell. Morrissey caught up until they were walking side by side.

"Does Mr. Stark ever actually come down here?"

Clint chuckled. "That would be the day. I think if he ever actually did every secretary with a hero complex, he would need CPR. And I've only got two hands." He pushed the door open and they re-entered the stairwell for the journey up to floor four.

"Look, agent, the only reason I'm giving you this tour is because Banner asked me to do it to keep you from getting turned around. Tony asked me to simply keep you from touching his stuff. Steve figured it would give you a better perspective on things, like the work Stark Industries does behind its owner's back."

Clint kept a fast tour. There were still nearly forty-six floors to go, not including the hidden lab tucked between level 44 and 45. Already half an hour in, Morrissey was expecting this day to be a long one.

"And you? What's your reason for all this?" She hazarded to ask.

Clint stopped before pushing the door open. He put his back against the frame and folded his arms. "Look, I don't really know you. I have this thing where if I spend time with someone, I tend to understand whether or not they'll be a detriment to our lives. We run a tight ship here." He leaned over the stair railing and peered first up, and then down, to be sure they were alone. Assured of the fact, he went back to leaning on the doorway.

"This whole buddy-buddy thing is a powder keg. I'm brought in to assess risks and take out targets. You know what I see here?"

She sat on the railing and spread her hands, indicating Clint should go on.

"Stark just took every known public face of a global world defense team and put them under one roof. Also under that roof is the most technologically advanced energy device this planet has ever seen. And the planet did see that, in action, assist in opening a portal to a different galaxy. You asked me why I'm giving you this tour, and the honest answer is because, should the day come when this place gets invaded, blown up, or generally besieged, I want to know you are confident enough in the layout to properly defend all entry points. Especially, given the fact that some SHIELD higher ups saw it fit to plant you here JUST because such a threat came through."

The words hung in the air between them, the echo of the stairwell carrying them up and down in little invisible vortices. Morrissey didn't need to think that long before coming to grips with what Clint was telling her. She had to agree.

"Putting it in that light does change things." she said.

"Glad you see that. My other reason is I still don't trust you as far as I can throw you. Onward and upward?"

Morrissey pushed off the railing and they entered the next line of offices. Given Clint's new perspective of the information, she took a little more care to pay attention to her surroundings. She knew everything he said was true. As much security as Tony built in to this place, trying to evacuate all of these workers in the event of a serious attack would be a monumental undertaking. The more people Clint had on board with the whole defense idea, the better.

"Did Miss Romanov get this same tour when she came?" She asked.

Clint lead through another cubical lined floor, laughing. "Tasha? You forget your history, she infiltrated Stark Industries before any of us. She gave ME this talk."

* * *

:(:):(:):

* * *

It was noon when Clint and Morrissey ended the first half of the official Stark tour. Morrissey had all the impression that they'd be continuing right up every single floor for as long as it took to finish out the day but Clint had something else in mind and, apparently, he'd planned it perfectly into their schedule. It just so happened that by lunch time they'd made it as far as the thirtieth floor. Coincidentally, or not, it was the same location as the cafeteria.

Stark did nothing small. That was Clint's resounding mantra up every single floor of the building. Helen had seen things she could have never imagine. It was no small stretch to assume that Howard Stark himself had no idea what he'd unleashed when he brought Tony into the world. If Clint was attempting to impress Helen with Stark's more redeeming qualities, he had succeeded. Not only was he a somewhat absent-minded boss who would rather spend a billion dollars on a Salvador Dali he would never lay eyes on, but also he was caring and sensitive to what it took to keep those he employed efficient. If that meant an open floor plan office space, windows on every possible angle of the building, and the elimination of corner office rivalries, that's what he did. The employees were held to impossibly high standards, but that didn't meant they weren't happy. They were challenged, ideas for growth and expansion were harnessed, and the entire company progressed.

"Fine. I'll admit it. It's pretty impressive." She said.

"Isn't it? I don't really know why I leave to get things because technically I could just grow my own food in a petri dish or something by now." Clint replied. He grabbed a tray and headed for the fast food line. In the wake of Tony's high standards, there were three mall-style 24-7 fast food choices. One was a gyro/shwarma place complete with its own dueling chefs. One had been born and raised in Athens with a zeke sauce recipe that could make any Greek weep. The other was an Afghan national Clint brought over as a favor. He'd been the mess cook in his camp for a while when Coulson and he ran missions between Afghanistan and Iraq. He was a fantastic foxhole chef but with the advent of Tony's unlimited backing, he was world renown in the shwarma circles.

Clint liked to stand in line some days just to watch the Greek and the Afghan scream at each other. He'd always end up with two lunches, eat half of both, and never said which he preferred. It was too much enjoyment to watch the cooks try to figure it out among themselves. Beside the Greek and Sheikh Boutique was the all-American Burger King/McDonalds. The same rivalry basted out of their likes the flames on the range grill.

"Tony thinks people work the food better when they have someone to beat." Clint said. "Of course this is all just the fast stuff. On the other side of the—what? Yes, that is real grass and no I don't know how or really even why he did it—on the other side of the courtyard is the fresh stuff. Produce, Panera, Whole Foods, fruity kind of stuff. Mostly Stark's over there. He installed all the trees and things so that when he wanted something normal, the fast foodies didn't feel bad about it. So there are three store fronts. Greek and Sheikh, Mc King, and that's the Kentucky Fish. Its Kentucky Fried Chicken and Fish would be shocked by how crazy those guys get about batter."

Helen got in line behind Clint as they approached the food vendors. She just couldn't believe this place. Stark Tower literally was candy land. The closer they got to the R and D levels, the wackier the development plans became. Sorting through the first couple floors she had no idea this gem was just waiting here for her. And the 360-view fish tank on level ten? The thing was big enough to hold a whale and the square design made it so little office desks fit at every single angle of it. If Helen was trapped working at a desk job, she'd be doing her level bet to start on level ten.

It just kept getting better. The higher up, the more toys. Clint explained it was another safety feature. Those who weren't involved in the inner industry positions or the temporary hires and try outs all started low. If they cut it, were loyal, and retained that pivotal trust barrier, they moved up. Quite literally. Now this? Helen felt like she was standing in Central Park and she hadn't even made it to Pepper's office door yet.

"So this is what you can do when you have all the money in the world." Helen said.

Clint elbowed her. "This is what you can do when you have Stark's brain in your head. Bill Gates has a net worth of around sixty some billion dollars. More money than he can set on fire in a single dump truck. Do you know how he lives at home? He has a pin that clips on to people that telekinetically communicates with some computer to adjust the lights or temperature and play some music. Now, when you walked in that front door for the first time, did JARVIS ask you for a list of preferences?"

"No."

"Right. He was designed as an Artificial Intelligence. He doesn't have to ask. He'll tweak the temperature by himself and if you aren't comfortable, he can tell and turn it the other way. Now let me ask why did you come find me this morning?"

"Because JARVIS said you were looking for me." She answered.

"Well I never told him to. He just knows things like that. I don't get why. Maybe one day he'll turn Skynet on us and kill us in our sleep. Until then, don't tick him off." Clint walked down the food line with Helen behind him. He was in a Greek mood today, but that didn't mean he was going to get off easy with Fahran. Helen grabbed little things from here and there and made herself a meal of every flavor.

"Thanassis! A wet day to you, my friend." Clint called out, waving to the chef on the line. "Fahran, when's that baby of yours coming to town?"

Both men exclaimed happily seeing one of their more popular customers. They left the line to the other chefs and came around to shake his hand and slap his back. Thanassis spoke about a niece he wanted to introduce Clint to, demanded a set day when to bring her by. Fahran was running into issues with immigration and clearing his wife and baby through the customs lines as they'd relocated to Iran. Morrissey hung back as the three caught up and Clint broke the news he was there for a gyro and not shwarma. At such a declaration, Fahran vowed to make him some Asabia el Aroos Clint would never forget. Before they moved back to the line, Clint hiked a thumb back at Agent Morrissey.

"Want to introduce you both to the Ms. Relark, she started with Level Three yesterday. This is Thanassis Paplamagotous and Fahran Kohistani."

Helen shook hands with the two chefs and said their hellos. Of course, anyone friends with Clint was a friend of theirs. Clint grabbed his food, promised to get a SHIELD agent on top of the immigration crew for Fahran's family, and led Morrissey to one of his desired picnic tables. From their position on the grass, backs against trees that she couldn't tell were real or not, they ate their lunches in peace and quiet. Helen expected Clint to scramble up to one of the low hanging limps and eat his lunch there like some African cat, but Clint resisted and stuck to the ground beside her.

"What? No climbing?" She asked.

"Not with company." Clint replied. "Usually? Yes. I can cover half the floor from the third limb up."

"Are they real?"

"The trees? I don't know. But let me ask you, does it really matter? If Tony had real trees planted in a terraformed grass in the middle of a food court would it be any less impressive than to have impeccably matched fakes?"

"Yeah I guess you're right." She unwrapped her burger and took a few bites. If she wasn't mistaken she heard birds tweeting in the distance like a scene from a Walt Disney film. "What next?"

"Next we head to the lab. You can see some R and D and we'll check on Tony and Bruce. Do me a big favor and don't jump each other. I want to make sure Tony is all right after his lapse last night."

"Lapse?"

Clint peeled the paper down on his gyro and nodded his head. "Yeah. Like I said before, PTSD. Bruce has an eye on Tony most of the time but if he's not around it makes me feel better to check on him myself. He has a few triggers we know of. Mentioning the attack, especially the part where he goes through the portal, that's a major trigger so don't bring it up. Water is another trigger, but that's from back when he was water boarded a couple years ago. Not all water, just the big things like I told you. He redesigned the Iron Man suit to withstand ocean depths now with its individual oxygen supply. If he's in the suit, he's fine. It's like his safety net. If Pepper, Bruce or me aren't around, try and just shove him into a suit. Some times that works to snap him out of it."

"What exactly does he do?" Morrissey set her food aside now. "And shouldn't he be talking to someone?"

"He is. So far every therapist has quit though. He isn't the easiest patient. He talks to Bruce. It's helping. He gets nightmares. Bad ones. Tenses, freezes, panics, screams, he's just confused and freaked out. Don't take anything he says personal. When he's in the suit, he's 100%. He needs it as much as it needs him."

"Ok. No attack, no New York, call Pepper. Anything I should know about Agent Romanov?"

"Yeah, first off only Director Fury calls her Agent anything. Oh, and yes she's called the Black Widow, but don't call her that every day. It's like a status thing. When we're on missions, that's her call name because she earned it for a reason. Just try and remember that before you try and cross her. Besides that, she's just an ordinary genetically altered human."

"Her?!"

"Oh, you didn't know? You can read it in any SHIELD brief. I forget the logistics of it, but it's the Russian version of brain washing with a little bit of nano technology, super serum, and invincibility thrown in. You don't think she'd willingly do all that crazy acrobatic stuff she does without something to fall back on."

Morrissey wasn't sure what she thought about Agent Romanov. Given the only other person she knew to try out the super serum, and fail, was Dr. Banner She was sure everyone else on the planet was scared off from trying it.

"Pepper's easy to get on with." Clint went on. He balled up his paper wad. "She's like a sister. Bruce doesn't need half the kid gloves SHIELD says he does. He really has himself under control. I haven't done anything that could even get under his skin. And I've been told I can be really good at that." Clint launched the paper. It rebounded off two trees and somewhere out of sight hit the center of a trashcan. "He likes getting back to work. Having resources again. He's been so far removed for so long but it took less than a day to get caught up on everything. He's like scary smart. If Tony and he ever decided to turn coat then we might as well just live in a spaceship or something. Nothing could stop them."

"Good point." She replied. "I can't imagine a company taking order from Stark. The whole world? That would be something. But switch topics. What about you? What should I know?"

Clint smiled. "I'm not that easy. I keep the peace. I stay back and assess things. I don't like getting involved in the thick of it unless I need to. Ever work with a sniper squad?"

"Sure I have."

"I'm probably just like every one of them. Take my advice when I give it. Everything I say is for a reason and to get you out of trouble. Especially on missions. If I tell you to back down from drop kicking a door, it's because I saw something you didn't and whatever you missed is going to get you killed. SHIELD's backing off to let us police ourselves. So, give us the space we need to do our thing and we'll keep going just fine."

Clint got up with his tray and they dropped their trash in the can on their way out the door. They had to take the main elevator up a couple floors to Pepper's office before changing over to the private security elevator. The small break was over. It was time to get back to work.

* * *

That's all for now!


	7. Chapter 6

thank you for the awesome reviews everyone! sorry this chapter's a little shorter.

Chapter 6

Morrissey stood in front of the empty dresser drawer. She'd pulled it open and stared into the stainless steel bottom. She had her overnight bag open on her bed with the intent to actually unload some of her clothes. Didn't that mean she was actually accepting this life here? Could she deal with the thought that Stark Tower was going to be as much his home as it was Clint's? Or Bruce's? Was she ready to take that step?

She picked up one of her plain grey T-shirts and dropped it into the drawer. Considering it there for a while, she slid it closed without adding any more.

"_An attempt at domesticity, ma'am_?" JARVIS commented, unbidden.

Morrissey grinned. After the tour she'd enjoyed with Clint all day, and the lengthy explanation she'd been given about JARVIS'S E.S.P., it was almost a comfort to have the AI around. Before, she considered JARVIS to be more of a Big Brother spy op designed by Stark to keep his minions in line. Many of her opinions of Tony had changed.

"Something like that, JARVIS." she said.

_"Might I make a suggestion?"_

Morrissey chuckled. If she did decide to stick this out, conversations with the air were going to become more commonplace.

_"Seize the day."_

Better advice had never before been given to her by someone who didn't exist. Morrissey thanked him for it and dropped a few extra pairs of clothes in with the t-shirt. Some little bit of her she thought she'd left behind in the Middle East war was trying to creep back into her. For so long, the agent had worked tirelessly beneath C.O.'s she could do little more than survive under. Body beaten, spirit broken, she had become what SHIELD always needed out of its top agents; an emotionless husk, with a past and a future never set to a single outcome.

She could be anyone they wanted. From the jealous ex in the beautiful dress at a Baltimore dinner party, to the potential victim of a rape. She could be the awkward newbie with the blown cover story and a bleeding heart full of summer love, or she could be the midnight assassin who ended the life of one Mrs. Relark, former intern applicant for Stark Industries who was currently counting fish at the bottom of the Hudson Bay.

Sliding the dresser drawer closed, Morrissey contemplated just who she was today. Was this all a charade? A lie to everyone, even herself? She'd worked for weeks to get to this moment. Inside the Stark Tower at last as a guest of the Avengers, she was holding all the cards. She had to check in, give an update on her progress thus far, but it was dangerous to do that here with JARVIS everywhere. Maybe that was just an excuse, though. If she needed a secure line it was easy enough to do. For now, that could wait.

Morrissey wondered if the others were already out in the kitchen. She hadn't seen anything of Bruce since the night before. Clint reported he was at the lab catching up on work he'd ignored the day prior, so it was her intent to at least see him before the day was out.

She left the rest of her pack for now and went out to the kitchen to find something for dinner. So far, she was more acquainted with the kitchen than the actual food court. Bruce was standing at the sink, working his way through a stack of plates and pans. It appeared he had snuck into the living quarters when she was still in her room. He was just finishing a second night in a row of home cooked meals. She leaned over his shoulder and planted a kiss on the stubble of his cheek.

"How was work?" she asked.

"Not nearly as fun as spending my day out with you instead." Bruce replied, returning the kiss. "How about you? Did the Hawk behave himself today?"

She draped her arms over his shoulders and linked them in front of his chest. "I learned all the intricacies necessary to subvert an attack on the Tower that may or may not appear."

Bruce chuckled. "I guess that's great news. I know you spent a lot of time over sees, so I figured I'd go with American traditional today. How does that sound?"

"Sound nothing, I smell hot wings and that gets me excited." She replied, releasing him to snoop around in the oven. Two loaded trays of spicy chicken wings and legs were stacked inside. Behind them on the island were a few plates of toasted potato skins smothered in bacon and cheese. Her mouth watered. Climbing all those stairs today was more than enough to work her appetite.

"Morrissey here yet?" Clint asked.

The voice surprised Helen. She turned around and found him sitting on the back of the couch watching the television. The closed captions were on and scrolling across the bottom of the screen as he read through them. Tony sat beside him. They exchanged a few signs between each other, after which Clint turned around, saw her in the kitchen, and returned to his show.

"I'm working on adjusting that." Bruce said.

Helen turned to him as he indicated the pair on the couch. He extracted the wings from the oven and set them on the counter beside the potato skins. He went on to explain. "I know he doesn't like his hearing aids and they tend to bother him. Tony and I have been working hard on a replacement that is more permanent and more comfortable. That's what I was working on all day. Tony and he communicate on their own level as it is. Now that they've decided to start learning some sign language, it's impossible to keep up with them."

Bruce extracted his second tray of wings, Morrissey set out the plates, and dinner was ready to go. Tony signaled to Clint and, together, they rolled off the couch and headed to the kitchen. Before reaching the center island, the archer broke off and called down the hallway.

"Steve! Dinner's up." He called.

Just as the night before, the Avengers circled around the island and passed around the fresh made food. Morrissey felt more prepared this time around, given Clint's earlier explanation of the behavior of the tight knit group. Clint and Tony perched on the stools with their plates in front of them. Steve appeared with a wide grin.

"Holy cow, Bruce. Keep feeding us like this and we're going to get used to it." Steve said.

Bruce shrugged and blushed. There weren't many ways he knew to show a girl a good time. But love was always supposed to occur through the stomach, wasn't it? Helen grabbed her own plate, took the final stool beside Tony's arm, and dug in. Bruce stood beside her, not feeling odd in the least about standing as he ate. Regardless that they had the same thing on their plates, they still stole from each other's. Steve stood directly across from them and, for a time, the sound of content chewing was the only thing Clint's ears missed.

* * *

:(:):(:):

* * *

Bruce lay in bed, staring at the radiant face beside him. He occasionally caught his thoughts going back to Betty. Their faces were similar in a way; the slope of her nose and the glow of her eyes when she smiled, but that was where the similarities ended. Helen was helping him return to an almost normal life. A life like how he thought it should be. He had the career, the friends. He was working on the confidence, but this whirlwind romance gave Bruce something his friends never could and, at the same time, never imagined ever finding again: Romance.

She smiled in her sleep as her body rolled against his. A shiver of affection curled up his spine. He leaned over and kissed her neck, producing a sleepy giggle from her. The morning was early, not even cresting past two a.m. according to the digital clock along the wall. He should be sleeping but he hated to miss out on the little moments. He didn't take advantage of every happiness Betty and he enjoyed. He couldn't imagine making the same mistake twice. While he was trapped in his reverie, he missed her eyes sliding open. She leaned forward and returned his stolen kiss.

"Are you working on the premise that, the longer you stare, the more chance I have of not disappearing?" She asked.

"I'm just wondering how you ever decided that, moving in with a guy you just met, was a good idea." Bruce said.

"Is this you admitting to burning down my place?" She teased.

He snorted. "I will admit it was fortuitous. SHIELD didn't burn it down, did they?"

"Maybe my C.O. decided against not scrubbing me out and tried to kill me off."

Bruce's expression changed. He couldn't help his mind actually going off to consider the possibility. After all, he'd seen what SHIELD could do first hand when an agent, by the name of Ward, nearly murdered Clint just a few weeks before. It was a part of SHIELD Bruce never wanted to accept.

Morrissey seemed to understand the change in him. She leaned forward and pressed into his chest again. "I'm sorry. I don't mean it. Besides, why would SHIELD go through all that trouble for a hit team when they could just ask Barton to do it?"

Bruce groaned, sitting up.

"Oh come on, I didn't mean it. And he and I really sort of got along in a way today."

Bruce looked down his arm at her. "'Really sort of in a way'?"

She removed herself from the bed and leaned forward, lacing her body against his, their legs intimately entwined. "If Barton was ordered to kill me, I don't think he'd take the time to get to know me first."

* * *

:(:):(:):

* * *

"Tetrodotoxin." Tony announced, enlarging the molecular structure on his workspace. "That's the first drug I found. Mixed with it's a fun cocktail of zolazapam, tiletamine, and a few calcium blockers."

Across from him, Clint sat back on the high backed stool. His left foot was pitched up on the holo-table as he leaned backward. It was late, getting near to daybreak when at last Tony felt safe enough to invite the two out of their beds and into the lab. Apparently, he'd been as suspicious of the new girl as Steve and Clint were. Only Tony had taken it one step further and run a toxicity screen on some hair he'd stolen out of Bruce's head. The results should have been surprising, they were, but it didn't mean the facts did not hurt.

"What do all those meds do?" Steve asked.

"They lower heart rate. Sedate people, animals. Some of them treat arrhythmias." Tony listed.

"Do we know for sure Dr. Banner hasn't been experimenting with these himself to keep under control?" Steve posed. When Clint glanced at him, he explained further. "We know he's been under stress to solve his problem and one of the reasons he works in this lab is to find a cure. Now, I know as well as you that the Hulk's been playing nice guy lately, but that doesn't mean he is without the strength to fly off the handle any time he wants to."

"So you're saying Bruce is using drugs." Tony laid it out plainly.

"I'm saying we don't exclude the possibility just because he was able to be with a dame."

"Agent." Clint corrected, speaking for the first time since the news sank in. "We've known her for three days, that isn't enough time to make friends."

"But you've worked with her before." Steve said.

Tony grumbled, "Devil's advocate."

The soldier shrugged. "Look, you know me. I don't want us to jump to conclusions. Clint, you spent the time with her. What did you assess?"

The eyes turned to the archer. Clint looked at the readouts of the medications and the DNA catalogue of Bruce's hair. The angry green cells which normally buzzed about the genes were surprisingly sedate. Whatever combination either Bruce or Morrissey found, it was rather effective at keeping the green guy in. He knew the others were waiting for him to speak up.

"I've said, since day one, she's a risk." Clint admitted. "She checks out with SHIELD, but she checks out too good. There's the duel disciplinary marks from now and the Baltimore mission. The history in the Middle East checks out. The Field Office was a little too fast with the information, like they were waiting for me to ask for it. She has the right opinions, her personality gets on well with Bruce, but she's vulnerable. More than I would expect in a seasoned agent."

"She's new to this work, though." Steve said. "She wasn't Level Six until Baltimore."

"What I want to know," Tony reclaimed their attention, "is how long we're going to keep the fox and hound together."

Clint pushed himself out of the chair and head for the door. "I'll handle that. Give me some time first."

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please review!


	8. Chapter 7

After reviewing some of my old stories I realized I fell out of a really fun habit readers tend to hate. I decided to fall back into it.

Chapter 7

The next two weeks were long and arduous. Clint was able to fulfill his promise and edge Morrissey into the position he intended. She had been working as Chadowski's personal secretary since Saturday's interview. When her night ended, she faked her exit toward home by heading to the garage with the rest of the secretaries. She climbed into the waiting car, drove away, looped around the city once or twice and returned to the garage through the underground private entrance. Bruce was always standing there waiting for her. She was so happy to see him the first time, devilishly leaning against one of Tony's other cars with an uncivil smile on his face. She jumped into his arms and, together, they rushed away into the night. Part of being undercover was emitting the idea of not being connected to the Avengers team whatsoever. In fact, even Clint had presented her as little more than the female cousin of the Greek chef from the cafeteria and, after their tour of the Tower, the archer avoided her like the plague itself.

Inwardly, the struggle was difficult to hide. She had a mission here whether the Avenger's knew it or not. Controlling Bruce Banner had proved to be less trouble than her handlers led her to believe. Part of the simplicity was the doctor's willingness to be controlled. He was happy, he wanted to be happy and that was enough to make her job with him easy.

Then again, that was becoming part of the trouble as well. She'd heard of instances where female or male agents got too deep undercover and lost themselves in the moment, like a form of Stockholm Syndrome. She didn't pity Dr. Banner in particular, but instead a new emotion overcame her. It was a strange, almost careless, happiness. Living this life with him was easy in ways that few things in her life were. It made her mission of destroying the Avengers Tower from the inside out all that much more challenging.

Every day, since her initial contact with Dr. Banner, was more of the same. Long days of office work as Morrissey tried her hardest to background the level floors. Security information was difficult to isolate over the JARVIS network, even with her SHIELD I.D. and the codes procured from Bruce's private files. Firewalls were constantly shifting and access codes changed within twelve hours of use. Each night, she spent it in Bruce's arms as they painted the town red.

The silence of the Tower offices, past midnight, allowed her to sneak up to the Avengers' wing with little more than Happy to watch to maintain her cover from the general workers. The weekends provided a wonderful two days of peace, solitude, and nothing more. She wasn't instructed to check in to her high command but once every three days. They knew, as well as she, the danger of hard line tap communications within the Stark walls. It was safer to maintain radio silence. She had her training and, as a Level Seven agent, it was enough to keep them silent to her work.

On the Monday of her third week, with Natasha Romanov slotted to arrive on that night's 7:55pm flight from Portland, Morrissey went to her office per usual. So far, she'd checked all of the security clearances within the mainframe of Tony's internal network. She had limited access to the JARVIS system, but Bruce assured her that he was looking into that security personally. She was able, instead, to concentrate on common lower level breaches.

Clint was hard on her. She knew from their dealings in the past that he wasn't the most open to outsiders. Tony was an enigma all in himself; he'd grill her for hours about absolutely nothing, and then inexplicably disappear. Bruce told her it was the typical tolls of living with a mind based on a mathematic algorithm that continued to subsidize itself into an intense vortex of fractals. She supposed, in geek speak, it made perfect sense.

Steve was just as she'd imagined Captain America to be; up front and civil, wary but trusting. She couldn't walk into a room without him shooting out of his chair like a real gentleman, and that made her feel beautiful. It was a behavior Bruce hadn't ignored and, instead, adopted.

Today, she toiled on Level 5's computer mainframe. She had access to a coworker's desktop and, by running a scan-ware program Tony had created in four and a half minutes, she combed around for any security breaches. A few trojans and tracking software was installed, but nothing of the level SHIELD would be concerned over. In the background, she ran her own security breach. JARVIS continued to keep her out, but over time she was pulling the layers away like an onion. Her progress was slow, slower than her handlers wanted. They needed results immediately and a strike team was even being considered. Moods in the war room accelerated from wanting to merely find out the latest and greatest Stark secrets, to eliminating the Avengers' threat entirely. For now she was told that option was off the table, but that Monday proved her wrong.

In fact, it proved many people wrong.

From the moment the first flash bomb struck, to the last gun shot fired, Stark Tower was reduced to a privatized war zone.

Morrissey was finishing in the file room and making her way out to the main floor when a door sliding closed caught her eye. She prided herself in recognizing faces instantaneously. The man that walked past her towards the Fourth Floor was very familiar. Not many red flags appeared in her life, but one was now waving like a matador's cape. The man, Grant Ward, was a common staple at the war room and, seeing him here in Stark Tower, meant only trouble. As he headed to the stairwell, he cast a look over his shoulder at her.

Bingo! This was going to be bad.

The minute he disappeared through the door, she back tracked his steps into the private office. There weren't many on Stark's open layout floor plan, but this was the international exchange floor and, occasionally, privacy was warranted for the long distance calls.

She slid into the computer chair and fired up the desktop. She was surprised when it didn't come to life immediately. She pressed the power key on the screen, but nothing occurred. Pushing the chair back, she leaned under the table and checked the tower. It was plugged into the wall. The plug continued to the tower, but there was something about it that didn't seem right and she wasn't sure why exactly.

Slowly, she pulled it back and away from the wall. The back cover had been removed. What she found inside was enough to set every hair on end. Carefully pulling her hands away from the machine, she retreated without touching it further.

Now was the moment of decision. Obviously, her boss decided he was tired of waiting for her report to come through. Soon, the company was going to be out and, to be sure they saw no opposition, the Avengers needed to be eliminated. The danger of the Stark Tower and its advanced technology must be stopped. She'd succeeded only in getting through some of the lower clearance tech specifications, but she assumed the plan must be to bring the infrastructure down and clean up the salvageable material after everyone was dead.

This was her job all along; befriend Banner, get in, and get out at the Go signal. Why the second thoughts? Why the hesitation? Hellen pulled out her phone, dialed the line Clint gave her for emergencies, and was connected within seconds to a voice.

"Stark Industries, home of billionaire genius extraordinaire and his merry men."

Morrissey had never needed the line before so, when Stark's voice came on, it took her a moment to change gears from what she'd intended to say.

"Mr. Stark, this is Agent—"

"Bruce's girl, I know. So, how's the high life?"

"Could be better. Look, we have a situation down here—"

"Non-secret agent talk, please? Is this a sexual harassment thing, cause I told Bruce not to be so grabby."

"Mr. Stark!" Morrissey almost screamed. She had to get this out. Perhaps she was experiencing a momentary lapse in sanity, because there was no way she was actually experiencing a desire for Banner and his wellbeing...was there?

"I have a bomb attached to a make shift time piece set to trigger with an electric surge in the Foreign Correspondence Office B of Floor Three. Now, what would you like me to do about this before it blows up in my face?"

The line went quiet for a long while. At some point at last he returned with a serious tone. "You found one, are there more?"

"I have one in front of me. It's the first I've found."

"Kill trigger?"

"Not from what I saw. One surge in this place, and this bomb is going to go." She said.

"Clint's coming to you now. He'll be there in three minutes. We should have time, my Arc doesn't throw power surges."

At the end of his words, the lights suddenly flickered on and off. The computer tower buzzed. Something cackled and, all at once, the world began to spin very fast. Morrissey launched to her feet and flung out the door, sealing it behind herself again.

"OUT!" she screamed. "BOMB! EVERYONE GET DO—" The world erupted in a flash of red before she could finish. The building tilted, her vision went black, and she knew no more.

* * *

:(:):(:):

* * *

Clint was only one floor away when he got the call patched to his phone from Tony. Overhearing that voice on the line, he knew at once Morrissey was not joking. Suddenly, his worst nightmare was being realized. Clint blew through the emergency door, setting the alarm as he went. He expected it would at least start the evacuation he was leaving to Steve to coordinate.

Then came the explosion.

It was strong enough to throw him off his feet. He hit his hip on the landing at the bottom of the stairwell. The emergency exit in front of him used to have a door. It was blown off, thrown across the hall and down the lower stairs. Men and women inside were screaming and running frantically. Clint got to his feet and rushed into the thick of it. Given that Morrissey was closest to the explosion, he expected to find little more than her corpse, if he was lucky.

The room was shrouded in smoke. Fearing fire, office workers had thrown chairs through the glass windows. Fearing death, others were attempting to jump to safety. At three stories up, Clint did not want to witness the result. He put himself right into the thick of the chaos.

He had a single goal, initially; He needed to find Morrissey, get her out, and then issue a general evacuation. As he bullied his way through the office space, he began shoving people toward the stairwell. The mob became so thick he had no choice but to jump onto the closest desk and shout to get everyone's attention.

"Get low!" he yelled. "Head for the stairs! You know where it is!"

Slowly, the panicked workers followed direction. They dropped from their positions and scrambled to the exits. The smoke was beginning to turn black. It billowed out the windows where some still attempted to jump to their rescue. A fire that had been contained to a closed door was now breaking out through the walls. The overhead sprinklers were showering the office but, given the scale of the fire, Clint knew it wasn't going to be nearly enough.

Then he heard the gunshots.

Clint dropped from the desk in a crouch. He pulled his bow and set an arrow against the string. There were enough arrows in his quiver to do the job, but, in case he ran into a problem, he also had his P30 pressed into a pancake holster at his back.

The gunshots approached from the northwest corner. The men, whoever they were, were already on the floor and clearing it. The side door, across from him, kicked open and the first assailant appeared.

He was dressed in black army fatigues, a surprise to Clint who expected perhaps an AIM or Centipede operative, or even some new underground movement. He reminded himself that costumes stores sold to all kinds of people, and he shouldn't let the wardrobe distract him from the assault rifle now aimed in the line of evacuation workers.

He stood from his hideout, drew back his string and fired. The first man dropped.

Twelve more rushed through the doorway in a mass and spread out expertly. Clint kicked a desk over and dropped to a crouch behind it, just in time. Bullets ripped through the metal top, narrowly missing him at every turn.

Clint grabbed his cell phone and flicked the audio switch to transmit. Tony's voice came through his hearing aid.

"Iron Delivery."

"Hey Stark, are you, by any chance, putting out a fire on the Third Floor? If you aren't, would you mind putting out a fire on the Third Floor right now?" Clint ducked as a man flanked him on the left. He pulled back another arrow and buried it in the man's chest. A second incendiary launched from the first arrow tip and took out the three men piled behind the first.

"Are you being shot at right now?" Tony asked.

Another bullet came too close for comfort. Clint ducked, fell onto his left side and fired another arrow.

"That is definitely an understatement!" Clint replied.

He was in the middle of jockeying another arrow from his quiver when the desk behind him was suddenly rushed. Clint rolled to his back, his bow sideways as he met the four soldiers standing over him with their automatics ready to fire. Clint was fast, but he wasn't that fast.

Four pops. They sounded like little more than fire crackers going off on the fourth of July. Clint released the only arrow on his string. It hit the center man whose head snapped back in response. He still didn't feel the effects of whatever bullet hit home, so Clint pulled another arrow and hit the second center man. The man stumbled over forward, hitting the floor at Clint's side with an arrow, and a bullet hole, through his head. The last two men dropped without the help of arrows, nor did they get the chance to shoot.

Clint rolled up to the balls of his feet. He grabbed his arrow from the head of the man beside him and sent it back on its string. Tentatively, he sat up and scanned the room.

Morrissey waved at him from the adjoining stairwell. So, she made it out alive somehow. He stood fully, checking the area again before crossing the room to her.

"Thanks for the coverage." He said. "Assess the situation?"

She pulled a handful of ammo from her pocket to refill the thirty-two in her hand. "Sub militant group. Explosions on at least two levels and ascending. Fifteen men on this floor, I don't know how many higher."

"Origin?"

"Unknown."

As it seemed they were safe from any potential attackers for now, Clint took the opportunity to do something he'd been planning to for some time now. As Morrissey turned to take the stairs up, He grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her into the wall. She shifted, trying to right herself before he had a chance to grab her again, but Clint was faster. He took her by the throat and slammed her into the stairwell railing. There, with her body one shove away from dropping three stories he held her.

"All right, so you're going to start talking before I decide whether or not to shoot you or let you drop." He growled. She tried to say something, probably plead for her life or tell him how wrong he was, but his thumb and index finger came together to cut off her trachea. Her eyes unfocussed as she choked.

"Did I forget the part where I tell you that, if you lie to me, I will stab my knife through your neck and let you bleed out instead? Consider it said." He held her there a few moments longer, just enough for her to begin to see that light waiting on the other side before he eased his grip slightly. She coughed and choked against him, but he refused to let go completely.

"Talk!" He roared.

Her reply came out raspy through the damage to her larynx. "All right! All right, you know. I'm sorry, this wasn't me. It was my team, but it wasn't me. I never approved it!"

Clint squeezed tighter again. "You know he trusted you right? What was the plan? Sneak into the Tower and meddle around? Or did you just plan on burning us from the start?"

"I never thought it would get to that!" She replied, "Please, I wouldn't be this straight forward if it wasn't the truth. I don't know what happened. I was sent in, like you thought, to get close to Banner, but I—" She didn't know what she was saying, or at least she couldn't believe it.

This is what every agent was warned of: getting too close to a mark. She'd been on thousands of missions, so why was this one any different? It didn't matter. It was all out now and she's chosen her side.

"Who's directing you?"

"It's a secret operation. They've been hiding in SHIELD for years. I was part of project Blackstone, we're the forefront of tech research and management."

"You mean stealing?"

She nodded slightly against the fist he still held to her throat. "I've been part of Blackstone since Cap first came out of the ice and the Tesseract was brought to the H.U.B. I was pulled out when you were stationed to the project."

There was another explosion above them. Fire and debris rained down from the ceiling and Clint was forced to move them back against the wall to avoid the shrapnel of molten metal. This was a lot of information to take in all at once, but for some reason Clint remembered a Project Blackstone. It was a distant memory, shrouded in the fog of what Loki had done to him and the cognitive recalibration that freed him from his mental prison.

That was it. Blackstone. That was the entire reason Clint was at the Tessaract base. He remembered the debriefing with Phil and Director Fury. Someone needed to keep an eye on things and, as always, Phil put Clint on the case. Tech from Phase Three was disappearing, not enough to raise major alarm bells but, if it got a bug under Fury, it was enough to set the Hawk on it.

Clint uncovered the agency working within SHIELD. How long they'd been there he had no idea, but their label at the base was under a single banner – Blackstone. He compiled something; something he was meant to show the Director but, for the life of him, Clint couldn't remember what.

"You know what these agents are going to do next?" Clint asked.

She nodded.

"Are you with us?"

"Yes."

There was no hesitation, no questioning of loyalties. Clint knew she was lying before when she said she was just there for Bruce, but now he saw the truth of it. She flipped sides the way Natasha did once. He'd given Nat a second chance then, despite everything she'd done to him.

"Good." He said. He let her go and headed for the next level. There were strike teams sweeping the floors. "This area's secure for now. We need to go up. I'll lead, you bring up my tail."

"Understood."

Whether he liked it or not, he trusted her and, with an attack on this massive a scale, he needed all the help he could get. Clint edged out of the stairwell. He looked up and down before going forward and mounting the staircase to Level Four.

Smoke was still swarming the hall. Soon, they'd be engulfed in flames. Anyone on the Fourth Floor was most likely dead by now if they hadn't moved on. The two moved past the door, pushing people in the direction that lead down as they crawled past. Morrissey's phone buzzed at her side. She tapped Clint's back, handing it to him without reservation.

Clint put the receiver to his ear. "Barton." He said.

_"Your phone isn't answering. Did you just feel that?"_ It was Bruce.

"Yeah, explosions on Levels Three and Four. Where are you?" Clint checked his pocket for his cell phone. It was gone.

_"I'm on the first level of R&D. I mean, did you feel that in Pepper's office?"_

Clint stopped. They were standing between the Fourth and Fifth Floor now. "What did you just say?"

_"Steve's on his way down. Stark is too. Is Helen ok?"_

Clint glanced at the traitor behind him. This wasn't the time to let Bruce get his heart broken. "She's fine."

_"Do you need me?"_

"No. Stick in the lab. It's possible they're after the R&D tech. If they get through that door, take care of it."

_"Tony may not like how I do that."_ Bruce said. He hung up.

Clint passed the phone back to Morrissey. He nodded up the stairs and, together, they continued to ascend. The Fifth Floor's access door was blocked by a half ton chunk of concrete from the landing above. Clint leaned across it to feel the door. He pulled back sharply, the intense heat on the other side making the door steam.

"If there's anyone left alive, they must be cooked by now." Morrissey commented. Clint gave her a grim look and they continued to ascend.

"What weapons do you have?" Clint asked as he side stepped past the broken landing.

"One .38mm, a Derringer in a glove holster on my ankle. You?"

"P30, pancake holster at my waistband if you need it."

"What about you?"

Clint didn't answer. They made it to the Fifth Floor. The stairwell was surprisingly empty. Stark had installed at least three exit points in a triangular arrangement going from the First Floor to just below R&D. Beyond that, only one axis point led up and down. Clint and Morrissey were on the Eastern most exit which followed parallel to the elevators. Most of the office workers must have taken the other exits, hopefully, in their evacuation. When the Fifth Floor's closed door was within sight, Clint held a hand downward toward Morrissey. She paused on the second to last step and waited for his signal.

Clint stood to the side of the door and pulled it open with a single swift tug, sending it swinging in an arc away from him. No bullets followed. He made a quick gesture with his hand and beaconed Morrissey up close to his back. She pressed in until their bodies were barely touching. As one, they moved in. Clint went right, and she took left. The floor was abandoned, but clean. As far as they could tell, no bomb had gone off. Clint was concerned that there was still one waiting, so he wanted to spend as little time as possible here.

Like most of the offices, this was another open floor plan. They could see clear across the aisles to the second divider down the left of the room. Two entry points led past the divider to the second half of the floor that wrapped around the westward side of Stark Tower.

Clint led the march forward. They were going to breech the closest doorway. Clint would go through, leaving Morrissey on the other side in case anyone attempted to come at them from behind. Beyond the intact windows, they could hear the sirens from New York's finest on fast approach through the bustling city streets.

Clint kicked the door in. It flung inward and, after a moment, he followed. What he found on the other side sent him right back out of the door again.

The world exploded around them. Clint was just fast enough to duck behind the wall and drag Morrissey down with him. A fire ball followed him out. The second door pulled open and the team of forty or so militants flowed into the Fifth Floor. Clint made it to his knees before the next man came.

Clint set an arrow and fired off a trick tip. The far wall exploded, taking five men out with it. Morrissey pushed up to his elbows and fired her .38. A few kneecaps blew sideways. Clint looked back the way they'd come, only to find their exit blocked. Someone must have called in the reinforcements.

They were trapped!

* * *

as you can see, that old habit was cliffhangers

please review!


	9. Chapter 8

muhahahaha...that is all.

Chapter 8

Morrissey rolled into a crouch, taking the men on the right while Clint focused on bottle-necking those entering from the hall. They were too exposed to stay there for long. As the fireball at their back died out nearly as quickly as it came, Clint made an executive decision and moved through the doorway again, tapping Morrissey's shoulder so she could go after him.

Barton sealed the entrance and turned to face the men attempting to scramble after them through the opposite door. The assailants were limited by the size of the doorway versus their own body mass, making it easier to slow them down. If Clint and Morrissey didn't get the door shut, however, their little standoff was going to end the minute their bullets and arrows ran out.

Clint grabbed his bowie knife in one hand and a round meeting table in the other. First he lifted and hurled the table across the room until it impacted the men and knocked them back. Then, he rushed the group with his knife and physically muscled them through the doorway. Morrissey came up behind him and, together, they shut the heavy oak door and dropped the closest filing cabinet in front of it. Out of the corner of her eye, Morrissey saw the first door jamb breakdown. Out of bullets, she reached to Clint's back and grabbed his P30 just in time to meet the second wave as it breached the entranceway. Clint raised his bow, but the first automatic rifle was already through the door. Morrissey appeared in front of him with her finger squeezing the trigger of the borrowed P30. The automatic jockeyed, fired, fell, and a splash of red coated the door.

Without waiting for another man to break through, Clint grabbed Morrissey by her shoulder and directed her to follow him. Together they raced through the back of the office, curved to the west side of Stark Tower, and barricaded another two doors between the assailants and themselves. From this side, they had access to the elevator system.

"Will they even work?" Morrissey asked as they paused outside the burnished metal doors. The indicator above the doorway reported the elevator was currently twenty floors up.

"This one will." Clint told her. He wiped his knife on his pant leg and replaced it in his scabbard. He was normally pretty clean when it came to slitting throats, but his left hand was covered in fresh blood. Clint preferred not to use his left hand if he could help it, and he knew he didn't do just now. His eyes went to Morrissey's light blue dress top and the expanding red circle in the shoulder he'd grabbed earlier.

"You're hit!" He exclaimed.

She shrugged her good shoulder, but wobbled on her feet. Clint seized her as her knees buckled and she began to sink. There were two more holes through the front of her chest.

"Yeah, guess I am." She mumbled.

The elevator doors opened and, before they could close again, Clint stuck his foot in the door and dragged Morrissey inside. He hit the number for the thirtieth floor, and crouched down to check her over.

"When did you get shot?" He demanded before the blood loss robbed her of consciousness.

"Few minutes ago, guy breaching door with auto." She replied.

Clint lifted her shirt to check the two lower wounds. Shards of blown apart ribs were apparent in both holes. There was no doubt in his mind she wouldn't be breathing very long unless he got her medical attention immediately. "You stepped in front of me and took three bullets in your chest? Correct me if I'm wrong, but that probably isn't a smart plan."

"Well, that's my problem." Morrissey said.

"No, it's _my_ problem. _I've_ got to get you out of here or else you better start making peace with whatever's on the other side."

"No . . . no . . . that's my _problem_." She repeated herself, trying to make him understand. "I'm the screw up agent, remember? The spy within the spies."

Clint looked down at her, their eyes meeting briefly as he listened to what she'd said. "You aren't a screw up." He said resolutely.

She smiled a little sadly. A cough brought a trail of blood down the crease of her lip. "Wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

_She's not going to make it out of this elevator_. He knew it. He'd seen agents go down in the field before and he knew the signs. Clint reached back and put his private code into the elevator. He'd intended to stop at Pepper's floor, get to Iron Man, and force him to jet Morrissey to the nearest hospital. But looking down on what he saw now, he knew the best place for her to be was at R&D.

Without saying anything more to her, he fished around her belt for her cell phone. She watched him, her lungs wheezing now as they struggled against the pressure of the outside air forcing its way in. Pneumothorax. Hemothorax. She was filling up with air and blood, and soon, she'd be drowning in it. As she coughed again, choking on blood, Clint eased her onto one side. With his other hand, he dialed Bruce.

"_Fine here so far, how's it looking down there? Tony took Pepper to the hospital after the explosion. She's alright. He's on his way back now." _Bruce was giving him immediate updates as per their usual arrangement. It helped Clint assess how close to Hulking out he was.

"Bruce, I need you to listen to me." When Clint spoke, his voice held no emotion. It was betrayal enough for his longtime friend to know something serious had happened.

"_Tell me_." Bruce replied, equally even.

"Meet me on the first level of R&D. We are on the elevator. We will reach it in one minute. Meet me at the elevator. Do it now. Do not Hulk out!"

Clint made it obvious he was saying nothing more and Bruce knew better than to pry. Clint hit the Off button and set the phone on the floor behind Morrissey. He leaned over to check on her again but the news was getting worse; she was slipping fast. He still had things to say, things he never knew he needed to say to her but, facing this, Clint couldn't stand to let the woman go out without talking to her.

"Blackstone – tell me!" Clint asked her first. Her eyes looked for him, but it was difficult for her to speak now. He didn't want her to disagree with him again. He wanted her to understand him.

"Not only did you take an undercover assignment in Stark Tower, you identified a bomb but warned us before hand and helped get people out. You cleared the floors with me like a pro, and when I wasn't fast enough, you were. You stepped into three bullets for a SHIELD agent. That's not a screw up, Helen, that's a top agent. But right now, you need to tell me about Blackstone. Who is behind it?"

She wanted to say something. He could see it in her eyes, but he knew she couldn't. She was breathing fast. Her pulse was fluttering and thready. Soon, this was going to be it. He stopped her before she could form her words and Clint heard the elevator chime. He turned to watch the doors open. A disheveled Bruce was already standing there. A black trauma bag they normally kept in the mission room was slung across his chest by a single strap.

"Clint?" Bruce's voice faded away.

Clint reached over to the doorway and pulled the stop button then he locked the doors to keep them pushed open. He tried to stand, but Helen's hand stopped him. Clint bent back down toward her. She forced out the whisper like a ghost breathing into his ear.

"Hydra."

He wanted to ask more. He wanted the time to interrogate her, to understand what an age old organization had to do with the Blackstone agents that infiltrated SHIELD. But there was no time. He got out of Bruce's way and whispered to him. "She does not have long, Bruce. You have to talk to her." Clint said.

Bruce grew roots in the doorway, the color draining from his face. The trauma bag, the explosions, the men making their way up Stark Tower, none of it mattered now. He wanted to know what happened, he needed to know. He felt like his world was beginning to rot away like a corpse in a pond. All he could see was the blood.

Clint eased his hands against Bruce's back and carefully edged him forward. He whispered again. "Bruce, you need to go to her."

The dam broke. Bruce hit his knees beside her. He picked her up gingerly in his arms and let her bleed into his chest. His hand brushed her hair from in front of her face so his lips could press into her forehead.

"I don't know what to say." He admitted. "This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't going to happen. I don't know what to say." He looked up at Clint. His eyes were filling with tears he tried desperately to hold back.

Clint bit his lip.

" 's ok." The small voice wheezed. Morrissey's hand was cold. It was a struggle, but she managed to raise it up to his face. When her weakness made it fall, Bruce grabbed her with his hand and held it longer against him. He blew his breath into her palm, hoping to press a little life into her. But it was too late and he knew it just as much as Clint did. With his head buried against hers, and Morrissey pulled tightly against his chest, Bruce let the words come out.

Clint remained by his side. He didn't come close enough to hear what Bruce said that made Morrissey smile despite the pain. He could read Bruce's lips, but decided not to. This was private. This was what Clint may one day be forced to do with Natasha. This was Bruce's moment and it wasn't fair for him to intrude on it. Should the day come where Natasha was bleeding, dying, in his arms, Clint could only hope the same gentle words would come to his mind. He made the mental decision then to prepare for just that moment.

Bruce had only held her for a minute and a half before Agent Helen Morrissey died in his arms. Bruce knew she was dead, but he couldn't let her go. He adjusted her in his arms. now that she was no longer in pain and pressed his cheek beside hers. He rocked gently as the emotion began to hit him.

Now, he felt it. Now, the loss was sinking in.

The pain welled up and, soon, there would be no controlling it. His eyes were rimmed in radiant green when he focused on Clint.

The agent hadn't moved. He stayed, knowing what was to come. There was no caging the Hulk from this pain.

"Go on." Clint told him. "I'll take care of her, Bruce. I'll swear to that. I won't leave her. Go on, if you need to."

Bruce paused. His muscles rippled beneath his shirt. The seams were beginning to split. But, he was still in control. Bruce gathered Morrissey's body in his arms and carried her out of the elevator. Her right hand fell at his side and the pool of blood that collected around her clavicle made a trail along the floor as he carried her. Clint moved ahead of him, anticipating where Bruce was going. There was a table of equipment laid out and Clint wasted no time shoving the articles to the floor. He held Morrissey's head as Bruce set her down.

"You don't leave her here." Bruce told him. His voice was deep and gravelly. His skin hardened, changed.

"I'm not leaving, Bruce." Clint assured him.

Bruce changed. Usually, when he became the Hulk, it was an explosion of energy. The sheer anger and rage were so palpable, the air itself altered around him. The coming of the Hulk was issued with butterflies in stomachs. Even those closest to him knew to keep a safe distance. And regardless of Clint and the Hulk's strange friendship, there was nothing to prevent Clint from being cautious himself.

This time was different. Bruce was completely in control. Slowly, the Hulk came out of him and, where once Bruce stood, the Hulk now appeared. The Hulk looked down at the bloodied body. He had an aversion to such things but now his face didn't turn away.

"If you want the men, they are still in the building." Clint told him.

The Hulk grunted, not moving away.

"I'll watch her. I promised Bruce I would."

"Hurt him." The Hulk said.

Clint raised an eyebrow in surprise. The autonomy of the Hulk's thoughts and those of Bruce were never fully understood. To hear now that not only did the Hulk recognize Bruce's pain, but the person who caused it, was something Clint never expected.

"I think he really loved her." Clint admitted.

The Hulk walked toward the elevator. There was no easy way for his size to get out of the first level of R&D. Clint could tell he intended to tear his way down the elevator shaft and wasn't about to stop him.

"Bruce did." The Hulk said as he walked away.

The Hulk ripped a hole into the bottom of the elevator as if he was opening a can of sardines. He disappeared from sight and never came back. Clint was left in the lab alone. His hand found its way wrapping around Morrissey's cold fingers. In the equipment on the floor, Clint found a comm. He picked it up and held it to his left ear. He adjusted the frequency until he could hear JARVIS and Tony bantering to one another. Steve, as well, was on the line now.

_"I've got the first ten floors cleared. Let me know if you want me to keep coming up or keep the ones off the stairs." _Steve said.

_"I'm in Pepper's office now. I think she might enjoy the new bay window." _Tony said back. "_I was thinking of renovating anyway."_

"_I believe, sir, Dr. Banner's alter ego has made a new bay window on the thirty-third floor_." JARVIS chimed.

For a few minutes Clint listened to them. From the sound of it, Steve's one-man wrecking crew, the Hulk's temper, and Tony's need to avenge Pepper's ill treatment that the situation was soon going to be under control. Clint tapped the receiver on the comm and his voice projected to Stark and Rogers.

"I'm in R&D." he said. "Helen's here with me. She's dead."

* * *

coming up: the final chapter!


	10. Chapter 9

#so here is the final chapter! So many feels! a MAJOR portion of this has been changed after the beta reader got a hold of it so look out for a big surprise icanhearthedrums:)

Chapter 9

Ocean City, New Jersey was a shore front town famous for beaches, tourists, cotton candy, and deep fried Oreos. The town itself was alcohol free, despite being ringed by three liquor stores just outside of the city limits, and nights were filled with drinking beneath the wooden boardwalks while taking in the sounds of the seagulls and ocean. The homes were built up upon themselves, overtaking the postage stamp lawns. Summer meant the tourist influx. Streets were overrun with rich families and their young children, all with the hope to escape whatever lives they had at home and enjoy the sun, sand, and shore. It was the last place on earth Clint Barton expected to find Bruce.

A full month had passed since the attack on Stark Tower shook the team. They had yet to fully unravel the depth of Blackstone's connection to Hydra. Fingers were pointed toward Hammer Industries instead. Since the World Fair debacle, Hammer had been serving time but an associate of his had a grand plan to break into the Tower, steal the tech on the R&D levels, and get out before Hammer's release date the following week. True to form, Hammer's plans hardly followed through in life as he had written out on paper. Though bombing the Tower and the employees might have felt like retribution at the time, the resulting fallback in court set in stone that Hammer would not be leaving his prison cell any time soon.

Frankly, the logistics were too diverting in Clint's mind. It was too easy to put everything in a neat bow and blame Hammer. On top of that, Clint's file from his mission at the Tesseract base was already sealed deep enough that even Tony had yet to break through it. Something was missing. Some piece of the puzzle was just beyond their grasp and Clint wasn't going to rest until he understood how far reaching Blackstone was. The entire raid was much too complicated for a man of Hammer's capabilities. The entire Avengers team knew there was more to this mess then what SHIELD planned to admit to.

Beyond that obvious trouble, was the difficulty they faced in Bruce Banner. Clint, like the other Avengers, waited for Bruce to come back from the Hulk. After tearing through ten levels and nearly collapsing the north face of the Tower, the Hulk decided to leave. He headed east first, trekking across most of New York, and even to Canada. After crossing the border back into the United States, he fell off the grid, even by SHIELD standards. Bruce had a talent for that. For the first two weeks, SHIELD kept their distance, allowing Bruce time to himself. When it was obvious he wasn't coming back, Clint was assigned to track him down.

When Bruce first hid himself away in Calcutta, Clint was the one set to finding him. After nailing down his semi-permanent location, Clint was reassigned to the Tesseract base. If he could find Bruce before, he could do it now. After finding him, he had the option of calling SHIELD, reporting the new Ocean City location, and head back to New York without making contact. But he decided against that. He wanted to talk to Bruce, as a friend, especially after all that happened.

He found him down on the boardwalk heading to the busy music pier. It was late into August already but the people here were packed in like sardines. The sun was just past its zenith on its way to a startling sunset without a cloud in the sky. There were screams from kids flying around on the park rides. The haphazard human traffic patterns caused one to zigzag through the stop-and-go pedestrians. For Bruce, who'd never enjoyed crowds and did his very best to stay away from them at all costs, this was a peculiar move for him.

Clint tailed him on the boardwalk for nearly a mile. When they reached the music pier, Bruce took the stairs down to the sand and headed into the tan grains past the dunes. He wasn't exactly dressed for a swim. He was wearing a pair of trousers Clint didn't recognize as his own, a generic t-shirt and urban sandals. He didn't look bad, just like an office worker who'd decided dress casual meant trading wingtip leather shoes for a pair of flip flops was dress down enough.

Clint was wearing his shades and a ball cap he borrowed from Steve's room. He considered a sleeveless shirt, but his physique was common enough knowledge to Bruce to tip the man off at once. Instead he was sweating in a long sleeved white cotton shirt. He wore khaki shorts, a color he internally detested, and tennis shoes. If this turned into a foot race, he wanted to be prepared.

Bruce threaded his way through the staked out beach patrons. Umbrellas, towels, kites, bathing suits, running children, sand castles, dolphins, waves, sea shells, plastic buckets . . . the ocean front was everything Clint had read up on and more. If he didn't know Hurricane Sandy decimated the place, it would seem like it hadn't changed since the 1940s.

He made a mental note to bring Steve here.

Bruce walked until he reached the high water line and plopped down beside a vacated lifeguard tower. The shade was a welcome relief for his unshaded eyes. Clint stood on the other side of the tower, wondering just how he was going to play the rest of this out. He'd been repeating the speech he planned every day, forty times a day, since the moment he brought a dying Helen Morrissey to Bruce instead of a hospital.

"Sand's cooler over here." Bruce said.

Clint inclined his head some as he leaned down to see beneath the legs of the lifeguard tower. Bruce was looking at him. He wondered how long he'd been made. At least the guy didn't Hulk out and take off like Clint expected him to do – yet.

"Looks that way." Clint replied, not moving right away.

Bruce was watching a child in a pink swim suit stamping her three-year-old feet in a puddle her father dug in the sand. Her chubby little arms swung around as she drooled and babbled insensibly.

"You gonna just stand there, Agent Barton?" Bruce asked.

Clint winced. Being called Agent Barton was not a good start. He deferred to Bruce and padded his way around the white and red construction. He sat down in the sand beside Bruce. In a show of good faith, he unlaced his tennis shoes, peeled off his socks, and shoved his toes into the sand. Bruce was right, the shade did feel good. The sand was nearly ten degrees colder here than around them. Together they watched the little girl play in the puddle as her father kept digging, as if expecting to unearth a trove of treasure.

"Come to bring me back?" Bruce asked.

"No."

"Keep tabs on me?"

"No. I just like funnel cake."

"Don't screw with me, Barton, please."

Clint was off put by Bruce's demeanor. Usually he was more tolerant of Clint's wise cracks. He sighed and stacked his hands across his knees. "All right, Bruce. I'll give it to you straight, if that's what you want."

With the ball in Bruce's court, he failed to pass. The scientist was smart and he knew how to get under people's skin. Natasha experienced that first hand when they met in Calcutta. If he wanted to draw this out, he could. If he wanted Clint to start squirming and result to calling in a strike team, he could do that too. Or he could just sit, enjoy the shade, and have a conversation with a friend.

"Can you not be SHIELD for like, ten minutes?" Bruce asked.

It was the first time Clint had ever been asked that question. He held up a finger, pulled his hearing aids out of his ears and stuffed them into his shoes beneath his socks. "If that's what you want, you got it. But I'm going to have to read your lips. I worry about them bugging my aids when I'm not looking if you know what I mean."

Bruce nodded that he did. Clint shifted his body just enough to look at Bruce as he spoke without straining his neck. He pulled of his sun glasses and set them in his shoe as well.

"How do you do it?" Bruce asked.

"I don't know." Clint said honestly. "I don't know what else I'd be doing. Actually, that's a lie. I'd be in jail. Or Blackstone. Or in AIM or Centipede. Talents like mine are useful, usually not for the right reason."

"Do you have to just do what they say? Do you ever question why?"

"I think you know me well enough to know that I question everything they tell me to do." Clint wanted to smile, but he didn't. He knew this conversation was less and less about Clint's career as a SHIELD agent, and more about what made Morrissey choose the way of life that got her killed.

"But you still do it. Even if you don't agree with it."

"It's hard to answer that." Clint told him. "It depends on the situation. I had a C.O. come in after Coulson who ordered a strike team on a possible terrorist hot spot in Balari. I was on that team. When I finished recon, I found out the hot spot was a school full of day care kids. I questioned orders then. I went as far as to prevent the team. I risked a bullet from a really mad C.O., but I didn't do it."

"Have you ever taken out a hit on another agent? If they came back as injured as you were? If they disobeyed orders?"

Clint wanted Bruce to repeat himself to make sure he'd read his lips correctly. The idea hit him like a slap in the face. So this is what Bruce thought. He couldn't come back because he couldn't look Clint in the eye without tearing him in half. All because of what he thought Clint was ordered to do. "Bruce, I want to tell you what I didn't get to say before. Will you let me?"

Bruce looked back at the water. He wasn't leaving, a good sign.

"It's my fault that Helen is dead."

Bruce's fingers tightened but he showed no signs of losing his control. Not yet anyway.

"We were trapped together in a no win scenario—" Clint stopped himself. He couldn't hear himself speak, but he knew he sounded like a SHIELD robot. He had to tell Bruce the facts without clouding them in agent speak.

"When I went in to look for more survivors on one of the floors, she was right behind me. I should have told her to leave. I should have called for Steve to back me up, or you, but I didn't. She was there, convenient, and I used her. That got her killed. When I opened the door, the place was empty. Then, it wasn't. We were swamped on all sides and if I had been alone I would be dead. But she was there, and we made it into the next room. I thought she sealed the door we were behind. I didn't make sure. I should have and, that decision not to, killed her. We took out the men one by one in the second door until I was able to get across the office and seal it off. They broke through the first and I wasn't fast enough._ I_ wasn't. She should have let me get shot, but she didn't. I should have realized she was hurt but I didn't. When we got to the elevator, she collapsed in my arms. I could have brought her to Tony, made him try to take her to the hospital but I decided to take her to you. That decision killed her."

Clint shook his head. He couldn't believe he was able to say all that. He hoped Bruce could understand him. Without his hearing aids, his speech sometimes slurred or the volume was off. If he talked for long enough, the changes made it difficult to tell what he was saying. A look at Bruce's face didn't help determine whether his friend knew what Clint was saying or not. Bruce's expression hadn't changed.

One thing Clint decided day one was that Bruce was never going to hear about Agent Morrissey's involvement in Blackstone or Hydra. The only ones who had some inkling of the truth were Tony and Steve and, at that, Clint's information to them was limited. His explanation was that she was investigating them in the Middle East during her tour and she'd found a link to Hydra. That was all. As for drugging Bruce . . . that was a thing to bury as well.

"Bruce, I killed her the minute I put her in the office. If you've been thinking it was your fault, or even Blackstone it's not. It's mine. It's SHIELD's. They put us in the field expecting, one of these days, we aren't coming back. But if you think some order came down from Fury telling me to put three bullets in her and let you watch her die, then you're wrong. I would never do that to you – ever. I'm your friend before I'm a SHIELD agent. I'm an Avenger before I'm a SHIELD agent. Hell, you tell me to quit and I will leave, now, and take the consequences."

Clint stood. He grabbed his shoes in one hand. "I'm not taking you back. And I'm not telling them where you are. I wanted to find you because I wanted to tell you that. Goodbye, Bruce."

Bruce knew Clint wasn't going to hear if he called for him to stop. He grabbed the retreating archer's ankle, the only available hold point, and Clint paused. Bruce motioned to the sand beside him, wanting Clint to sit. Barton did. Bruce tapped the side of his head. Clint put in his hearing aids.

The sounds of the ocean beating against the sea shore came back with a roar. He always had to adjust from the silence to the suddenness of the world coming back to him. The little girl was dancing, stamping, and screaming. Seagulls had descended on a couple to their right, ripping a bag of potato chips out of the woman's hands while the man laughed.

"I don't like crowds." Bruce admitted what Clint already knew. "It's always like I'm behind this glass wall. I can look out at them, but that's all. I can't get too close. I have to keep to myself. I have to keep apart even at Stark's place. When I met her, suddenly that glass felt like it was cracking. I actually let myself dream a little."

Clint realized Bruce wasn't just here, taking in the sweet moments of a father and daughter enjoying themselves on the beach. Bruce was coming to terms with that fact that this happy moment would never happen for him.

"I always wanted a little girl." Bruce said.

Clint wasn't sure how to respond to that. He'd never given it any serious thought himself. The only woman he'd ever considered being with was Natasha, and after all the things the Red Room had done to her, she couldn't have kids. Leaving SHIELD, making a real life for himself, it never really occurred to him.

"I never thought about it." Clint said.

"I've loved a couple girls in my life." Bruce said. "Betty, Helen. After the accident I kept loving Betty but I never wanted her to deal with what I had become. Helen was different. She knew what she was getting into from the start. I hadn't felt that kind of freedom in a long time. Suddenly, it all felt so real. I worked with Stark, I had an income, I had a great girl. I started putting things together. Like, maybe, I could have a life."

He sighed and rested back with his palms in the sand. "I'm not an idiot, Clint. I know she was undercover. And that she was working for Blackstone. I knew because she told me the night before she died. For me, it's not normal to not be the Hulk. It's not normal to love a girl like I could love her. I tested a blood sample and found the Tetradatoxin. I asked her about it and she came out with the truth."

Clint's mouth dropped open a little. "Bruce, I—"

"You know what sucks about the whole thing? There are seven compounds fused with the Tetradatoxin that can't be identified by mass spec. Without her, I can never have that life back. I'll never know what they gave me to make me normal again."

The girl jumped and laughed as the water rushed toward her.

"I always wanted a little girl." Bruce confessed.

Clint smiled a little sadly. "All right. Let's play this game. If I wasn't an agent, and I could do whatever I wanted, I would get back into the circus."

Bruce's gaze at last was torn away from the child to look surprisingly at Clint. "What?"

"You wanted to go there, so I did. I would go back to wearing a leotard every night and traveling the world in the menagerie car with the big cats. I'd go by my call name, perform all the tricks I want, have my own agent, and just travel. Never thought about kids but if you're making me do that to, then I want a son. Just one. You know what, probably two, since they can be spoiled brats when there's only one."

"The circus?" Bruce repeated, still dazed. "You would run away and join the circus."

"Worked when I was nine, why not go back?" Clint replied. "I was happy there. If you're talking about being happy for the rest of my life doing one thing, then that's what I want to do. So I dropped my pants. What do you got? What do you want?"

Bruce considered the matter very seriously, as if whatever choice he was soon to make would define the remainder of his life. "Teaching." He said. "I was a professor once, while I worked on the gamma radiation project. I taught physics. That was when I was happiest. Working with Tony, the Tower, don't get me wrong it's really great. I love the team. The weird family thing we have. But that's the time where I think I was always the happiest."

Clint nodded as if he expected that exact answer. He reached into the back pocket of his shorts and extracted a well-worn folded letter. This he handed over. It was opened already, bearing both Stark Industries and Dr. Bruce Banner on the label. Bruce inspected the return address to see it was from Princeton University in Northern New Jersey.

"Funny you say that." Clint said. "We got six of these the last couple weeks. I found them when I was helping Pepper sort through the mail room clutter during the cleanup. I brought that one along. It's not often you get official mail."

Bruce slipped his hand into the envelope and extracted the letter from inside. He unfolded it, placing the envelope beneath his leg to prevent it from flying off. The first few lines were familiar for form letters: the general introductions, the pleasantries from the president of the university, then the meat of the reason for a letter at all.

"They want to hire me?" Bruce said incredulously.

"Yes, they do." Clint said.

"I got how many of these?"

"Six, last time I was home. Maybe more."

"And you brought me this one? Just this one? Where were the others from?"

"Doesn't matter."

Bruce folded the letter and returned it to the envelope. He placed it in his back pocket. "Ok. You've got me. Why doesn't it matter?"

Clint replied as if it was the most logical answer in the world. "Because you are working at Princeton."

Apparently his assurance was not good enough. "And why there? You know, I used to work out of UC Davis and—"

"Princeton is closer." Barton interrupted. "Only an hour without a helicopter or jet which will cut it down to twenty minutes, tops. They recently upgraded the physics department to include a graduate studies program and heavy research areas in engineering and molecular biology. In fact, their Lewis-Sigler Institute for Integrative Genomics recently received a fellowship grant for their advanced research techniques. The Fellowship made it so they want to expand their undergraduate degree program. Hire a part time or full time professor."

While Barton spoke in his Tony Stark stolen way, Bruce had progressively turned in the sand until the two of them were facing each other. The ocean, child, father, shade, and all else was forgotten. This strange specter sitting beside him pretending to be Clint Barton was much more fascinating than any bikini clad woman tromping down the Jersey Shore.

"Clint, I think those are the biggest words you've ever said to me that had nothing to do with Asgard or killing someone." Bruce said.

"I practiced after I called them and had the dean send me the brochure for the physics department." Clint admitted. "And stop giving me that look."

"I'm just trying to figure out how you did it."

"Well stop, you're freaking me out." Clint said. He stood, shaking sand off his shorts as he grabbed his shoes again. Beside him, Bruce did the same. The sun had moved over its zenith and their shade was slowly moving across the ground away from them. If they stayed out much longer with no SPF, most likely they'd returned to the Tower like a pair of toasted potato chips. When Bruce was ready, they headed up the beach together toward the boardwalk.

"My dad went to Princeton." Clint said after a time.

Bruce, having known nothing of Clint's family beside the fact that he didn't have any, was again marveled by the revelation. "Did he?"

"I remember his certificate, diploma you know, hanging in our den when I was little. I liked that gold seal thing they put on them. I figured, when I grew up, I'd go there. Finish high school, go to college, get some degree in something, turn into a suit. I guess I did become a suit, just not the kind I expected."

"Clint, is the reason I'm supposed to work at Princeton because you always wanted to go there?" Bruce asked, kindly.

"No." Clint replied, trying to appear offended.

Bruce knew better then to be fooled by him. They were on the boardwalk now. He didn't know where Clint was leading him. He knew he made it to Ocean City by hitch hiking his way down the coast, so most likely Clint had a car parked someplace. Bruce had to admit to himself that their conversation was not what he had planned. He was angry at Barton. He wanted to be angry at someone and Clint was an easy choice. If he had only chosen to go to Tony and not to Bruce, then Bruce wouldn't have had to shoulder the memory of a woman he cared for dying in his arms. He also blamed himself. He should have insisted that Morrissey stay out of Stark Tower. He knew as well as Clint did that wouldn't have stopped her. She was a SHIELD agent. She was trained to infiltrate, make herself useful, not sit on her heels and wait for things to come to her.

"She didn't have any family." Clint told him after a time of walking in silence. "But a lot of agents knew her. They loved her too. Did you know she pulled ten guys out of a compound in Afghanistan?"

"No, no I didn't."

"Neither did I. They were at the funeral. Wanted to thank her. Wanted to thank me for looking out for her in Baltimore and New York. She was promoted to Level 5 only a few weeks before our mission together. SHIELD wanted to see how far she could go. Wanted another Maria Hill or Melinda May."

"They got another body to bury." Bruce said.

Clint nodded a little to himself.

"Clint?"

He looked over at Bruce.

"I want you to quit SHIELD."

Though he wasn't exactly surprised at the request, he was taken aback at how quickly Bruce said it. "You really want me to leave?"

Bruce's hands were in his pockets as he struggled with the idea himself. As difficult as it was for Clint to imagine himself leaving the organization, for Bruce to be the cause of it was something to muster. "You and I both know something's up. I know it's what you're used to and all . . . But Clint I did watch them try to murder you almost two months ago just because you went deaf. Stick with the team. Just us. Let Cap deal with the suits."

They were quiet for a while as they continued to mosey down the boards. A rally of surfboarders crossed their path heading for the water. A team of miniature dogs in baby carriages were pushed past by their owners. A teenager beneath their feet fed a ten dollar bill between the wooden slats to tempt the wayward passersby to snatch it.

"All right, Bruce." Clint said. "I have a mission left. A team was kidnapped in North Africa and they need me for an extraction. After that, I'll tell Fury myself."

Bruce nodded, satisfied.

The two stopped in front of an old time arcade. The front of house feature was a water gun game. Rainbow colored stuffed monkeys were climbing up pipes in their quest to reach the ceiling the fastest. The ones armed with the water pistols were Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, and Natasha Romanov. Steve was winning.

Bruce looked over at Clint.

"I didn't invite them." Clint said.

"Steve, you are cheating, you have to be!" Natasha grumbled.

Tony ignored his failing attempt at target shooting and instead turned his pistol to Steve's left ear. Despite the attempt at a flagrant foul, Steve still won the game. With half his face soaking wet, the Captain shot out of his seat with his arms held high. "Four in a row! Four games. Tony, you owe me big this time."

Natasha glared at him. "I still think he cheated."

"I'm the one that grew up on carnival games, sweetheart." Steve reminded her.

"And how old does that make you in dog years? Haha! Oh yeah, you're dead." Tony replied. He looked over to the two standing and watching their antics. He smiled but made no move to vacate his seat. "Bruce, fancy meeting you here. You know, this place has a terrible marketing coach on MTV. I haven't seen a single inflatable-breasted, orange, Jersey Shore girl since I've been here." He leaned forward and didn't particularly try hard to whisper, "They don't even pump their own gas here!"

Steve ignored Tony's comments and approached his teammate cautiously. He set a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "We wanted to make sure you were all right. We're not here to drag you back or anything you don't want. But I do have to request the chance to whip carney-boy at the water gun game."

Clint scoffed. "Carney-boy? Steve, I was raised in a circus. If you think a carnival game is going to stand between me and beating you, then you're stuck in the forties, my friend."

"Steve wins one more time, he gets the monkey the size of the Hulk." Natasha said. She evacuated her seat to Clint and took his position beside Bruce. As the boys geared up for round five, she slipped her arm beneath Banner's and interlaced her fingers with his.

"I'm so sorry." She whispered to him.

Bruce nodded a little. "I know."

The overhead bell rang and, suddenly, Steve and Clint were shooting neck and neck for the top of the pole. Their rainbow monkeys climbed their way toward the ceiling. Tony alternated shooting his squirt gun down Steve's shirt and into Clint's eye.

Bruce wasn't sure what he expected when his friends came looking for him. In fact, he was so sure they would never find him he hadn't bothered to think of scenarios of their meeting again. He expected, at some point, he'd overcome his pain of seeing the Tower again without thinking about Helen in his arms as he whispered all the years they would never have together in her ear. He thought he would one day wander his way back and pick up his life where he left off and that would be an end to it. Somehow, and he didn't know exactly why, this was better.

He never saw Natasha's intimate side. It was normally only reserved for Clint in their private moments together. Soft words exchanged or notions passed without ever doing more than looking at one another, that was Natasha and Clint's world together. Standing there, with her pressed next to him like a sister might console her grieving brother, Bruce knew how important he'd become to all their lives.

He was sure Clint had a thousand more things he wanted to say to him, all of them more reasons why he should be blamed for the one good thing in Bruce's life being ripped away from him. Bruce and he would have to come to terms with that together. It would take time. Not all wounds could heal over a single conversation. But this was a start.

Clint took the win. He leaped out of his seat, standing on the water gun counter as he declared his win to the entire world. The soaking wet Steve kicked Tony Stark out of his chair out of spite and, perhaps, a little sadistic humor.

"Come on, old man!" Clint taunted. "Raised in carnivals? I can whip you in any game on this strip."

Tony lifted a finger from his position reclining on the deck. "Might I suggest some Dance Dance Revolution? I would give both of you a thousand dollars to see you do a DDR battle. You can start off on Easy but whoever finishes Paranoia Dreams is the winner!"

Eager to defend their egos and their titles, the two agreed and the search was on to find the game that neither had ever seen or played before. Natasha, being more informed that they were, went on to instruct and assist. Captain America versus Hawkeye on DDR? She was getting that on tape.

Bruce leaned down and offered Tony a hand to help him to his feet. Despite his aversion to being touched, the Avenger accepted the assistance.

"Steve's right, you know." Tony said. It was obvious now his interest in the game was purely a tactic to get himself and Bruce alone together.

"How's that?" Bruce asked.

"We aren't here to force you back."

"Funny, Clint said that too."

Tony nodded. He chewed his bottom lip. Like Clint, it was obvious he had more to say. "You're my friend, Bruce. You lost someone you cared deeply about. But, when you didn't come back, so did I." Tony dropped his eyes away from him to stare at nothing in the distance of the ocean. "It was my idea to come here. I'm sorry if it's not what you wanted. I just needed to make sure you were all right. You didn't leave with anything and you were all Hulked out at the time so I-" Tony leaned over and picked up a duffle bag from the side of the water gun game. He held it out to Bruce.

"Clint didn't check in for the first couple weeks so Natasha, Steve, and I got together and packed you some things we thought you might want. There's some instant food in there, some clothes, a pair of shoes. I took out some cash from your account under my name and I put it in the side pocket." Tony leaned in a little. "And by some I mean like, twenty grand." He leaned away again and cleared his throat. "If you were going to need time we wanted you to be comfortable at least."

Bruce looked down at the bag. He had never known anyone to be so considerate in his entire life. Out of curiosity, he leaned down and pulled the bag open to see what exactly Tony had deemed worthy of Bruce's global walk about. The cash was there, all twenty thousand of it in small, old, non-sequential bills. Beside that were three passports under various pseudonyms no doubt the brain child of Natasha and Tony both. In the main compartment, he found all the clothes he typically wore, a new pair of running shoes in his size, and various articles from the top of his dresser. One was a picture of Helen, the other of Betty.

"Natasha finger printed your room." Tony said as if it was the most common place thing in the world. "We didn't know exactly what you would want most so we just grabbed whatever had the most finger prints on it. You didn't have a picture of . . . her . . . so we took one from the security footage and framed it. Your old shoes had a hole in them. I ordered those online. Should be the same size. JARVIS helped me calculate—"

Bruce grabbed Tony in an uncharacteristic embrace. He patted his back, squeezing hard enough it was difficult for either of them to breathe. It felt both right and uncomfortable on both sides and the sign of affection was quickly over.

"Thank you." Bruce managed to say.

Tony nodded, dropping his sunglasses over his eyes to obscure them from view. "Don't mention it."

"I don't think I'll need it."

Tony nodded. "Good. That's really good."

"Clint gave me the letter from Princeton. I think I'm going to go."

"I think you should too." Tony affirmed. "I always told you getting out would be good for you and they have a great new—"

Bruce put his hand up to stop him. "I know, I know. Clint was just pitching them to me like an Army recruiter."

Tony smiled sadly.

"Clint's quitting SHIELD." Bruce added.

If Tony was shocked, he didn't show it. He only nodded a little. "Ok. I'll find something for him."

Natasha poked out from behind the lines of virtual reality go carts. Bruce was sure this wasn't her suddenly stumbling into their conversation again. Most likely, she'd been standing in wait for their moment to be over. She smiled at them and hiked a thumb back.

"You two are missing out on some epic Steve vs. Clint rivalry right now." She said.

Bruce exchanged a look with Tony and, together, they followed Natasha to find Clint and Steve.

Tony whispered in Bruce's ear. "I'm turning off Clint's hearing aids. Let's see how good carny-boy can dance then."

The duffel bag of memories was over Bruce's shoulder, as carefully packed and planned as when his friends first decided to make it for him. He knew, then, he was making the right decision to go back; to go home.

Rounding the corner of the lines of arcade machines, they came upon the glorious sight of Cap 'Merica himself getting full out jiggy with the shorter Clint Barton. Expert accuracy and precision were working well on the archer's side to keep up with the Captain's rapid movements.

Bruce smiled as he watched. His good memories would always be right there with him, but it was time for Bruce to stop running and hiding. It was time for the Hulk to stop controlling his life and for him to claim a little piece of his humanity back. This was the start of a new life, not only for him but the entire team. How were they going to adjust to his new employment? Or Clint's? There was plenty to stick around for and many new changes and adventures to come.

* * *

an that's the end! so this book's timeline is: Lithium Hawkeye, Titanium Hawkeye, Vibranium Hawkeye, The Return to Asgard, Bagel Thursday, Smashed Through the Heart, and then After Asgard. One day I'll make the flow a little more linear in a massive epic .epub file available for download.

Things to look forward to?

Untitled new story:

_Characters: Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov, Aaron Barton, Philip Barton, Bull Weatherby, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner, Thor, and Charles "Barney" Barton_

_Story line: Clint wakes to a world he cannot remember. One in which Natasha is his wife and they live together with their twin sons. Barton's life seems full of all those things he missed from childhood, the loving family, wonderful friends, and beautiful house. The only thing missing? He can no longer shoot his bow due to the horrific injury he suffered at Deathlok's hands. But why can't Clint remember this? Why can't he remember his life here? Are these just the memory lapses Tony says they are, or is there something more here?_

_Trapped on the outside looking in, Steve must convince Clint that the world he loves is nothing but the drug induced lies spun together by the masterful instruction of none other than Clint's own brother: Charles Barton. Steve must put Clint's life, his real life, back together or risk losing the archer forever. _

_But what is Charles Barton's play? Once a prominent undercover FBI officer, assumed dead for years, why has he surfaced now only to torture his only living flesh and blood? And why is he so adamant to find the location of the 084 known only as "Kree"_

stay tuned folks!


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